Discoveries
by Microraptor Glider
Summary: Barry Allen is about to discover abilities he didn't know he had. In fact he didn't have most of them until after getting struck by lightning. As he discovers these abilities he has to decide what to do with them. Basically a drawn out origin story.
1. Prologue: Creation

For those of you who are just finding the story, I started this after Barry had been introduced on Arrow, and well before the pilot for the show had even been finished let alone released. Thus, while I kept up with news about the show, and consider this fic very much related to the new show, I got certain details wrong. Well, plenty of details wrong, but some of them matter more than others. Some changes are cosmetic and might be distracting if you first saw the TV show. For example, I based my Detective West on the casting description before we got his first name, so that is different. Other times character's roles were swapped. The STAR Labs team does not even make an appearance because while I was aware that they were being cast, I had no inspiration for how to use them until after Cisco and Caitlin were introduced in "The Man behind th Mask" on Arrow at which point it would have been forced to include them directly in my story.

However, now that you know that there will be differences from canon, I hope you enjoy my story. It is very much in celebration of the show and the possibilities which existed in the moment after the particle accelerator explosion was shown on Arrow. Neither the directions of my own musings nor those of the show's creators have disappointed.

Quartic Moose beta'd this chapter.

**Prologue: Creation**

Barry Allen died.

It was as honorable a death as one could have; he had just saved the multi-verse.

It had been six years since he had started patrolling Central City, almost seven years since the accident which gave him super speed, and two whole years since he had discovered "Earth-2". Going to another world, which strangely resembled some old comics from his own world, had been a weird, but otherwise simple experience. Then, he only had two realities to keep track of, and he had thankfully left his nephew and speedster protégé, Wally West, behind on the first trip. Getting one's bearings in a new universe and trying to keep track of a hyperactive speedster at the same time was not fun-a fact Barry had discovered this year.

He, along with other members of the Justice League, had been contacted pleasantly by a being which called itself the Monitor and unpleasantly by one which called itself the Anti-Monitor. Apparently the latter wanted to destroy all realities and the former wanted to stop him. At that point, Barry couldn't have left Wally behind when he visited a new world; he'd needed all the help he could get.

Wally, unfortunately, had not been with him a moment ago, when Barry had discovered the Anti-Monitor in Earth-2 with a cannon powerful enough to destroy the whole reality. As the entity gloated about his device, he had revealed several things. The device drew energy from collisions between matter and anti-matter. Destroying one reality would make the surrounding realities less stable. This would eventually lead to a chain reaction that would kill the whole multi-verse. The necessary emissions traveled outward faster than Barry could return them.

The comparison to his speed was purely out of the Anti-Monitor's mouth.

Barry had grit his teeth and decided to put that to the test, running circles around the machine so fast that even subatomic particles had rebounded to whence they came. Barry had continued gritting his teeth as he'd ran. It had been at the edge of his abilities. Barry had begun to feel the Speed Force, which supplied his abilities, tug on him, more and more. It had wanted him to come back with it to the extra-dimensional pocket universe where it resided, and it wasn't being nice about it. Barry had felt pieces of himself turn into energy. He had appeared to be damaging the cannon, but it had still been running. He had had to continue. Eventually the cannon had been destroyed, but all that was left of Barry was his red uniform made out of compressible microfabrics.

To all who knew him, he died a hero. Other super-powered beings took the Anti-Monitor down, ensuring he would never pose a threat to existence again. The device had done enough damage to Earth-2 that it had to merge with Barry's home world in order to ensure the continued survival of its residents, but they were alive and most were thankful to have a new home. A few residents of Earth-2 were glad that the comics based on their exploits had been canceled over two decades before hand and few people remembered the details of their adventures. They could settle in and continue their semi-retired lives.

People would later argue that Barry hadn't actually died. To some extent this was true. As the matter that composed his body transmuted itself into energy, his soul, or the equivalent of it, slid into the Speed Force. There it would stay for some time, watching the universe from the embodiment of kinetic energy itself. Eventually, his soul would return to the material world, and in that moment, the Speed Force would reform his body, remembering it well enough from all the time the Speed Force had spent connected to it. People would wonder, "If he came back so easily, was he really dead?"

To some extent the claim that Barry Allen hadn't actually died was also a lie. It covered up the years he wasn't there, the grief of those who had had to make do without him, and how much had changed in his absence. His nephew, Wally West, had taken up the red suit and protected Central City along with its new sister-city Keystone in his uncle's absence. The years Wally had spent as Barry's sidekick and partner made him the most qualified person for the position, but the transition had been jarring. He had been used to fighting the villains of Central City before, but without his mentor it was harder. It was also hollow. Not only was each patrol and each battle a reminder that the original Flash was not there, but he ran through each event in a modified version of his mentor's distinctive clothes. Eventually, these feelings would fade. His skills improved, and his heart moved on. But, such is the process of grief.

However, it was a lie on a different level as well because the transition from the material world to the Speed Force can be traumatic on the soul. Barry may not have completely died, but he had come close. On entering the Speed Force, Barry Allen's soul fractured, and a piece that wasn't so securely attached to the rest broke off.

Fortunately, the soul's regenerative capabilities are more comparable to those of the liver than the brain, even if the latter acts as the body-soul interface. When a human loses a portion of their brain, it truly loses something: self-control, the ability to speak, awareness of its surroundings. When a human loses a portion of its liver, it hurts, and the organ cannot do its job as well. The organ however survives, and eventually comes back as powerful as before.

Similarly, though Barry Allen returned whole, he'd had to spend a long time recuperating in the Speed Force. Toward the end of his stay, he'd managed to make some brief excursions to the material world, and the Speed Force was generous enough to spit him out in the correct time and place to help Wally in a time of need or to warn him of an incoming danger. But, it took until the third time in for it to stick, and Barry had the distinct feeling that years had passed for him as well as the rest of the world, though not necessarily in the same number.

Some good came out of the fracturing, though no one ever knew. The small piece of Barry's soul that had broken off flew through the Speed Force. However, time is more flexible in the Speed Force than elsewhere. Eobard Thawne had used this property to his advantage repeatedly in tormenting Barry Allen while making his home in the twenty-fifth century. TheSpeed Force did not even need someone to push at it to mess with time. Often it sucked objects out of one time frame, and occasionally it would return them, always in a different time frame than the first. Maya temples floated in its midst. Modern tanks with decades-old rust lay outside the new gem cities, Central City and Keystone. Because of this temporal flexibility, the broken piece of Barry's soul did not fly outward in any particular direction; it flew backwards in time.

It flew past the opening of the Flash Museum. It flew past every time the Speed Force had helped the Flash apprehend a criminal. In fact, it went so far that it went straight past the creation of the Speed Force itself and popped out the other side. It skidded to a halt in the middle of Central City infused with energy.

The clouds were pouring their water on the city below, occasionally letting out a lightning bolt that hit a skyscraper and shot into the ground. While the storm didn't make the night darker in any noticeable way, and the flare of the lightning bolts and the glare of raindrops around car lights added to the sense of brightness, the storm added to the city's sense of menace typically associated with the dark. Still, people walked the downtown streets, umbrellas in hand. People continued to work late shifts in stores and restaurants. People came into and out of the city on train, Metrolink to get to the suburbs and Amtrak's high speed rail for longer trips, such as to Starling City and Gotham to the East or Metropolis to the West. People drove in their cars through congested city streets or highways.

Well, _a_ congested highway. Most of the highways in and around Central City had some traffic to be sure, but one highway in particular seemed packed to the brim. This particular traffic jam led out of Central City, past the suburbs towards a building clearly labeled "S.T.A.R. Labs", which lay at the center of a giant figure eight that cut through the surrounding farmland and dwarfed the nearby city. Traffic was actually thinning compared to earlier. Anybody who was going to witness the event had already showed up; everybody on the road was still waiting to figure that out. One could see the vans for the large news stations, CNN, FOX, and more, set up and reporting outside the building. Even some smaller stations such as KSTZ, which was channel 8 in Central City, and WEBG, which was channel 7 in Starling City, had managed to get a spot in the racket.

Amid all this, the sliver of Barry Allen's soul was confused. Souls are supposed to come in whole packages, and thus they recognize when a solid chunk is missing. Worse, souls in the material world typically have bodies to support them. The sliver, then, suddenly found itself missing a whole lot. Though it had some sense of what was going on, it couldn't observe the world in the way it could before. It had no eyes, ears, nose, or skin. Instead it felt through the Speed Force, sensing objects through their kinetic energy. It could also feel the rest of Barry Allen's soul, and it longed to be reunited. Unfortunately, it had trouble piecing the two sensory systems together in order to locate the rest of the soul.

The sliver dipped further into confusion. The storm quaked.

The sliver was leaking the Speed Force's energy already. Some of that energy was going into the clouds, encouraging the built-up charge to release in an amazing show of electricity - of moving electrons. Some of that energy started sticking to the fastest object in the vicinity, which just so happened to be some protons approaching relativistic speeds in the figure eight outside of town. Those protons spun faster. A slight blip appeared on a screen in the S.T.A.R. Labs building, and a scientist raised an eyebrow. They spun faster. More blips appeared, and the scientist jumped out of her chair. "I'm getting dangerous readings. The protons are accelerating beyond how we set the magnetic field to propel them."

Another scientist ran down and looked over the first one's shoulder. "Holy shit." An expression of fear and exasperation washed over his face. He muttered under his breath, "We checked the equipment fifteen times." The scientist lifted his head up. "Fermi-Guy! Didn't you say you checked over this stuff as well?"

A man, whose eyebrow visibly twitched at the nickname, opened his mouth to speak, to explain that everything had matched up in the several times he had looked over it. However, he found the question even more annoying because not all the equipment mirrored the facility near Gotham in the first place. Fortunately, the head researcher cut him off. "I believe everything has been checked over and verified, but we will check it over again," the head researcher's voice hardened, "once we turn it off." He turned to the press liaison. "Tell the press our best guess is that the thunder storm is messing with our equipment."

Everybody carried out their roles. Buttons were pressed. The press liaison left and returned. The scientist looked up from her panel. "I've done what I could to reduce the propulsion while maintaining the magnetic cage around the protons, but…" Everyone turned to look at her. "They won't slow down."

The head researcher and the press liaison looked each other in the eye. The head researcher then turned to the rest of the room, "Continue trying to slow it down. I have a press nightmare to take care of." The two people left the room to control the gaggle of half-worried, half-excited reporters.

In fact, the particles were speeding up. As they approached light speed, the laws of physics bent around them. This wasn't easily visible in the hollow tube through which the proton accelerated, but it happened. Gravity made a little less sense. The increased speed meant that the protons didn't stay on their predetermined tracks, so they collided before schedule. The resulting collisions created miniature black holes. These were the size of pinpricks even when compared to the size of an atom, so each black hole quickly dissipated as it shot out energy. At the event horizons, gravity met the other three natural forces, and they merged into a new paradigm, which was similar to string theory but also beyond it.

In short, things got weird.

Sometimes, in times of dire stress, humans can make brilliant decisions, the immediacy of the situation forcing an intuition not seen before in that individual. Most of the time, however, stress makes humans make mistakes, especially when dealing with unknown forces. This is why practice is so important; any mistake that could be made when it counts has already been made and accounted for in a less urgent setting. The S.T.A.R. Labs employees had practiced starting up the accelerator before. Many had spent some time at Fermilab by Gotham or the Large Hadron Collider in Europe to gain experience before coming to the facility. After the media started making hype about the safety of particle accelerators, the scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs shook their heads complaining that while Gotham and Europe had problems, they related to crime and budgeting, respectively, not miniature black holes. But, they had added precautions, double-checked everything, and rehearsed again (and again) anyways.

Unfortunately, none of this practice could prepare the scientists for the Speed Force, the embodiment of kinetic energy that was not even supposed to exist yet. Lowering the magnetic field that had propelled the proton up to speed would have been a good idea under normal circumstances. The scientists in the control room had even been clever enough to manipulate the electro-magnetic field, so it should have slowed the particle down. "Should" described circumstances which did not involve the Speed Force. The action also reduced the magnetic fields that held the protons in the circular paths. The reduction wasn't significant, especially if the protons had been going their intended speed. Alas, they went the speed they went and crashed into the acceleration track's wall. Well, considering the speed and size of the particles, "crash" isn't exactly the technical word. But, for lack of a lecture on sub-atomic structure and quantum mechanics, it is the word to use, especially because of the energies involved. Not enough energy to cause a gigantic explosion, but certainly enough to damage the system that cooled that portion of the tracks. Without the coolant in place, temperatures quickly rose.

Explosions ensued. While a number of S.T.A.R. Lab employees and visitors would be glad they didn't happen too close to the building, the city as a whole would later bemoan that they happened on the section of the track closest to the metropolitan area.

Fortunately, it was still in farmland, and no lives were lost directly in the explosions, which reached up to the sky in a tower of burning dirt and soybeans. The property damage was minimal.

That calculation on the other hand did not take into account the resulting shockwave of Speed-Force-entangled soul that rocked through the city. A million small unexplainable events occurred, as the miniature black holes continued in its wake. As in the particle accelerator, the black holes dissipated quickly, but before leaving they bent and stretched space-time, consumed and spat out energy, broke and reformed supposedly immovable laws of physics. The radiation level spiked then lowered before anyone could detect it. For a millisecond, nothing could be taken for granted. This shockwave didn't directly cause any damage either, but people would later blame it for the superhuman-crime levels that would eventually make it famous.

For most of the city, the preceding events caused panic, then hesitation. Finally, as the citizens realized that the world hadn't ended, relief set in, burying a seed of worry concerning possible aftershocks.

For the sliver of Barry Allen's soul, the preceding events were a godsend because it managed to pass over a larger piece of soul that felt so right. It wasn't perfect; no soul is. It wasn't even completely the same as the sliver. Years had passed. Sometimes trials had been overcome; sometimes trials had overcome it. All left their mark. But, at the heart of things, the sliver recognized this soul as itself, and it wanted to connect again.

Dispersed over the city by the shockwave, the soul took a moment to coalesce over the lab that Barry Allen stood in. The amount of Speed Force attached to the sliver was greatly diminished. The electrons still buzzed in anticipation around the sliver, but it wouldn't be long before most dissipated out into the world, speeding things up a little but ultimately getting lost in entropy. It needed to take action soon on both fronts, otherwise it might drift and disintegrate through city without the familiar energy to guide it. It also dreaded losing a connection to the last seven years. The sliver couldn't imagine living without the Speed Force or the rest of itself.

A memory flickered. "Chemicals." The sliver didn't have the time or even the capacity to do calculations. It was such a small portion of Barry's soul that it could barely remember the chemicals involved. Moreover, without the rest of the soul to ground it, the sliver would only think in hollow circles. It would have to trust itself and the Speed Force. The sliver sent some of the Speed Force towards the still-chaotic particles flying around the cabinet directly opposite its target.

Below, Barry Allen pulled a large chain, opening up a skylight. He then turned to the side, still holding the metal links firmly in his hands. Some chemicals were not behaving according to the law of gravity, because droplets of color-coded chemicals were rising out of beakers. Barry's mind was so confused that it couldn't even formulate a thought about how odd that was.

The sliver saw its chance. The sky glowed. Barry looked up. Lightning struck.

The lightning bolt tossed Barry into the now-floating chemicals. The electricity almost fried Barry's chest. Diluted acids played against Barry's skin, while other chemicals soaked into his bloodstream. Barry's body knocked the metal rack over, and the rack pushed back. Those immediate events knocked the assistant police scientist unconscious.

The sliver had gotten something right though. It was now in Barry Allen's body, and it bonded with the rest of his soul. The connection wasn't perfect, but it would require an event almost as traumatic as death to knock it loose.

Moreover, with the electricity still coursing through Barry Allen's body, the Speed Force found transforming the variety chemicals coating his skin and leaking into his veins into what it needed was not hard. A light ran under Barry's cheek as the Speed Force made its changes. A few small changes in body chemistry and an already strong connection to the Speed Force through the sliver meant that Barry Allen would generate it with every twitch of his muscles for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, while the Speed Force might be accustomed to Barry Allen's body, Barry Allen's body was not accustomed to the Speed Force. After the electric shock, chemical burns, and collision with a rack full of beakers, the addition of a strange energy was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Barry Allen slipped into a coma.

**A/N: **So, one of my favorite parts of superhero stories are the origins. Not only do you get some interesting character work with the choice to put one's life on the line for others in a nutty costume, but you also get to see people who will eventually be badass fumbling with their new-found powers. As such, I have decided to revel in the ending of "Three Ghosts" and write my own origin for The Flash, while we are waiting for the pilot to come about. Moreover, "Three Ghosts" left a lot of questions, and I wanted to take as stab at answering some of them. As such, the scene above required me to make a lot of decisions big and small, which I will now explain:

Coma: Ok. This was actually confirmed by the show, but I wrote this before then, so I'll share my reasoning. First, it is not unprecedented, considering the New 52 Barry seemed to be in a coma for a bit after the lightning strike. Second, it would help explain some pieces of timing for the show. The CW only gave the show its own pilot after seeing Gustin's work on the midseason finale, so that lightning strike was already planned. But, it would still have been a decently long time between the midseason finale and episode 20. If the show wanted to show him discovering his abilities, having him wake up the next day would be an odd decision (unless episode 20 was mainly flashbacks).

The time shenanigans: I read on wikipedia that one comic showed Barry Allen turning into the lightning bolt that gave him powers after sacrificing himself for he mutliverse, and I couldn't resist. The show's reference to Eobard Thawne (killer of Barry's mother and resident of the 25th century) also pushed me in this direction. I had to alter it to being a splinter of him because in the comics he ultimately returns from the speed force in the comics. I don't think the show is going to explore this, though, mainly because I don't think it will want to retire the character until quite a few seasons have passed or even hint that they will retire the character.

Moreover, the time shenanigans allowed me to give the speed force the semi-mystical feel I prefer. What the Flashes can do is too far to pretend it falls under conventional physics, and the whole going to the speed force if you die running too quickly just adds to the mysticism. However, I still want the speed force to work with physics (hence only semi-mystical).

The particle accelerator and weird physics: There were several decisions here. I had the speed force cause the explosion rather than the explosion cause the speed force because I honestly don't think particle accelerators are that dangerous. However, the show's producers have hinted that the particle accelerator "cause some problems for Barry", so I figure it will help provide some meta-human adversaries. Hence, I need some weird stuff coming out of that explosion. Miniature black holes are the only dangerous thing I heard about before looking into it, so they had to make an appearance.

Particle accelerator design: Because I don't think there would be so many outcries for a small particle accelerator, I based some details, such as the figure eight design, off Fermilab, which I also referenced. Moreover, if it is going to be a big particle accelerator, it is going to take up space, so it isn't in the center of town.

Geography: This was hard. I ended up using the TV-channel call letters to determine that Starling City is probably east of the Mississippi and Central City is probably to the west. Considering I'm pretty sure Starling has a port and is not in the South, I am going to guess that it is on the east coast. It also has a lot of old-money, so I am going to make it a city with history such as Boston or Philadelphia. Central City on the other hand is most often shown in Missouri or Ohio. Though call letters starting with a k can be found to the east of the Mississippi, I'm going to go with the safer bet of Missouri. However, in either case it would be odd for Barry to casually take the train to Starling from Central. Oh, well. Due to the Dark Knight trilogy, Gotham is and always will be Chicago.


	2. Chapter 1: Healing

**A/N:** Originally uploaded not that long after the prologue and way before the show aired. More edits provided by Quartic Moose.

**Chapter 1: Healing**

Patty Spivot furrowed her eyebrows at the paperwork. Though it was tedious, she typically worked on it in the mornings while she waited for her daily dose of caffeine to kick in, because most of it required little to no mental effort. She flipped through the documents in her laptop and recorded the key figures on the appropriate lines. Sticky notes tacked to the side of her cubicle reminded her of the information she would have to gather for the day. Reports from her assistants sat in a small pile to the left of her monitor, so she could easily look them over.

Currently, she had her hand on that pile as she scanned her email, hoping to find a specific report. Sighing, she gave up there and flipped through the three pieces of paper. Apparently, the assistant had forgotten to turn it in.

Patty got up from her desk and wandered to the next cubicle over. "Julio, have you seen Barry today?"

Julio looked up from his work and shook his head. "No. Is there any particular reason you need him?" His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity.

"He hasn't given me the analysis I had him do for case one-thirteen, and Captain Frye said he was supposed to be back by yesterday anyways." Patty's eyes narrowed. "I don't want to be down an assistant with all the panic from last night." In addition to the department's normal caseload, there had been three major robberies during the night and a possible suicide. Some people had freaked out after the explosion and had acted desperately, jumping to apocalyptic conclusions. Some of the more hardened criminals had seen a window of opportunity to strike while everyone's attention was elsewhere. Patty wasn't surprised, and while she hoped that things had already cooled down, she knew there was probably more to come.

Julio frowned; this was bad news on two fronts. First, Julio Mendez was Patty Spivot's other assistant. If Barry didn't show up soon, not only would Julio have to pick up the slack, but Spivot would probably take out her frustration on him. Not that she would be wrathful, but Julio was not looking forward to her being in a bad mood.

The second and more important point was that this was out of character even for Barry. The guy had an unhealthy habit of showing up late, but usually it was due to some little thing that wasn't his fault. He did eventually show up. Moreover, Barry didn't ever let that get him behind. For the little things, Julio couldn't count the number of times Barry had thanked the inventor of email so he could send a report in before he left for work instead of as soon as he arrived. Whenever Barry did one of his disappearing acts in search of answers, he always made sure to get far enough ahead first, and he never outlasted whatever excuse he had given.

Finally, Julio gave a shrug. "You could try asking Detective West." Everybody in the department knew that Detective Daniel West had taken in Barry Allen early in his life and that the two had grown close.

Patty nodded and walked towards Detective West's nook of the cubicle maze. She probably would have gone straight to Captain Frye, but Julio had a point. From the few interactions she had had with Detective West, she could tell that the man treated Barry like a son. Patty stopped in front of the cubicle and knocked on the carpet-covered construction material that surrounded the office space. "Ahem. Detective West?"

The African-American man inside raised his head and nodded for Patty Spivot to continue.

"I'm missing a report from Barry Allen, and my other assistant, Julio Mendez, said he still hasn't shown up for work." Patty paused. "I was hoping you would know where he is."

Detective West turned his chair around to face the CSI, his hands clasped together. Patty noticed his lips and eyes narrow in worry. "I received a message from him last night. Said he was driving to the lab because he had missed the chance to see the S.T.A.R. Labs accelerator start up. He should have come in." Detective West shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

Patty's eyes drifted upward in contemplation. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p>Julio shared the lab space with Barry, so she'd send him to check if Barry had fallen asleep over his computer. She gritted her teeth together. Her assistants were surprisingly talented, but Julio was easily distracted, while Barry could get spacey. Sometimes they drove her up the wall.<p>

Julio walked down the brick hallway and dodged between officers on his way to the lab. He couldn't tell whether or not he wanted to find Barry slumped over his desk, probably with his Board of Mystery still uncovered and his computer on. On the one hand, he had been trying to convince his friend to get a life for a long while. All too often, Barry crammed himself in his lab devoting himself to work, and things only got worse when the anniversary of his mother's death came around last year. Then, Barry had stayed in the lab past his shift and researched late into the night. Julio wondered just how much digging one could do into one case because he got the feeling that last year was not unusual.

The fact that Barry was chasing the impossible made his obsession all the more unhealthy. He wasn't going to hold Barry's beliefs against him; everybody had their crazy pieces. Unfortunately, tracking down this "yellow blur" had consumed Barry's life. Julio had quickly learned not to bring up any unexplained cases in other precincts, and by now he had made the habit of actively hiding them from his co-worker.

On the other hand, finding Barry in the lab would at least mean he was safe. Barry's last disappearance had lasted longer than most, which typically had Barry returning quickly after encountering a dead end. Julio quietly laughed. Maybe Barry had finally explained the unexplainable after all, but Julio knew that the chances of that were slim. His co-worker's extended leave had bugged him. And, now Barry was supposed to be back in town, but he still hadn't shown up. Barry was frequently/often late but never this late.

Julio swiped a card through the keypad on the wall outside the lab and opened the door. The room felt damper than usual. Julio pushed the thought aside; the roof leaked anyways.

He glanced towards Barry's nook of the lab. The map of Central City was retracted, and the computer's lights blinked to show it was sleeping and not shut down. But, Barry Allen was not hunched over the computer.

Instead, Julio's gaze shifted as his peripheral vision picked up something wrong. One of the chemical racks lay on the floor. Broken glass littered the area. The puddle on the floor was strangely discolored, and Julio remembered when he and Barry had come up with their color coding system so that they could tell by a glance which dangerous chemicals should not be mixed. The puddle on the floor, however, was larger than Julio guessed was possible from the chemicals alone. His foot stepped in it as he moved forward, and he was only two steps into the room.

"Holy shit." On top of this scene, including the wire metal rack lay his co-worker, Barry Allen.

Julio ran over to his co-worker and checked his pulse. It was slow but there. Julio felt his facial muscles relax. At least he didn't have to deal with a dead coworker. He shook Barry's shoulders - no response.

Something dripped against Julio's neck. He turned around and noticed a gaping hole in the open skylight. "Don't tell me. The lightning storm last night." A frown creased his face. He shook Barry again. He slapped Barry. No response.

Julio ran back out into the hall, dodging officers. "Detective West!"

* * *

><p>The Wests quickly admitted Barry Allen into the hospital, where he was placed in the coma ward. IV tubes delivered the appropriate amounts of nutrients and calories to his bloodstream. Numerous machines monitored his vital signs, such as heartbeat and brain activity, and while the Wests hoped for an improvement, the doctors warned that they were lucky the young man was even alive.<p>

Nobody wanted to treat this situation as normal, but everybody went back to their normal lives nonetheless. Detective West found himself distracted in the department's growing workload. Patty Spivot pushed Julio harder, which only reminded him that he no longer had a co-worker with him to share the burden. Iris, Daniel West's youngest child, missed Barry's company but threw herself into her studies. Somehow, though, she found herself coming back to her house from the dorm more often to speak with her father.

Two days after Barry's body was discovered, rumors started floating around the Central City Police Department. It started with Captain Frye not only pardoning Barry Allen's disappearances but leaking out that if the assistant CSI ever recovered, the word 'assistant' would be dropped. It was just a rumor, one that Captain Frye flatly denied, but that didn't keep people from talking. A few days later, the rumor grew. Apparently, someone high-up in Queen Consolidated out of Starling City had called Captain Frye to see how the assistant CSI was doing and thank him for his work in Starling. A few of the rumors even stated that the employee in question was the CEO, Oliver Queen, but few believed those versions. Those stories were only repeated because they were so ludicrous.

Still, as the rumor mill drew attention to Barry, the rumors branched out. Some scrutinized his previous disappearances. None of these were too nasty, but they weren't that flattering either. Detective West eventually talked to Julio to make sure the kid didn't mention too much about the murder of Barry's mother, Nora. Fortunately, the assistant CSI said he'd never do that. Barry didn't deserve to be judged based on his crazy side

Two months passed. The rumors subsided. Meanwhile, Iris had developed a schedule of visiting Barry every week on Friday after her course on neural plasticity. She'd talk to him, tell him how her week was going.

One day somebody she didn't recognize had shown up before her.

The other guest was a woman. She was blonde, and from the hue of her lip gloss and accessories, Iris guessed that the other woman's favorite color was pink. Neither of these were to suggest she looked like a bimbo. The woman's bright style made her stand out, certainly, but she didn't seem to want to hog attention; she held herself too awkwardly for that. Though the accessories were an unusual color, they were also oddly professional and reserved. Iris didn't know what to think about her.

Iris moved to stand beside her. "Hi. You visiting Barry?"

"Yeah," the woman nodded. She held out her hand. "My name is Felicity. My last name is Smoak, but most people don't call me by that." She gave a small laugh. "I mean, I'm Felicity. Hi."

Iris smiled and shook the hand. "I'm Iris West, but you can call me Iris." The women released each other's hands and looked back at the comatose young man. Iris rolled her lips. "So, I didn't know Barry had a girlfriend." Iris paled. She had meant to say, 'So, how do you know Barry?' but apparently her mouth had overridden her brain. First, she had no idea where the sentence came from. Second, she was going for a Masters in psych; she was supposed to know her mind better than that. Well, technically psychology had taught her that one never truly knows all the secrets of one's own mind, but that was beside the point.

The woman's, Felicity's, eyebrows rose and her moth formed a small 'o'. "I'm not his girlfriend. I mean, I went to the company gala with him, but we're not officially dating." There was a short pause as Felicity looked down. "He thinks I like someone else anyways. He offered to go on an official date at some point, but he made it obvious he thinks I belong with someone else." Apparently Felicity had a tendency to ramble.

Though she couldn't figure out why, some part of Iris relaxed. She tried to make her smile reassuring. "You are pretty." Iris let that hover in the air and sink in. "You seem very nice too, coming to visit him. And, do you know what? I bet you're smart." Felicity looked up, and Iris locked eyes. "Barry likes smart girls."

Felicity laughed. "Oh, does he now? And, how would you know, if may I ask?"

Iris's smile turned devious. "We're like siblings, or rather the best-est of friends. It's my duty to know."

The two returned to silence, though it was far more comfortable than the previous one. Each woman stood there looking at the comatose young man. Several moments passed. Iris pondered on Barry's love life. He could be so observant and so unobservant at the same exact time. Perhaps there was another man Felicity liked, but he obviously had missed the feelings Felicity had for him.

Finally, the silence had dragged on long enough. "You mentioned a company gala. Where exactly do you work?"

"Queen Consolidated. I'm Oliver Queen's secretary." Felicity continued speaking, but it was all a mumble. Something about the IT department.

Queen Consolidated was in Starling City, the last place to which Barry had disappeared according to her dad. A frown subconsciously worked its way onto Iris's face. "I thought he went to Starling city to solve one of his… mysteries, not attend fancy parties."

Realization darted across Felicity's face. "Oh, no! That's how we met. The weird case. Not the party." She paused and took a moment to sort her words out. . "A guy, who had been on super-steroids or something, robbed one of our warehouses and carried off an industrial-sized piece of equipment single-handedly. Oliver and I went down personally to talk with the officers because the robbery was so weird and all. That's where Barry showed up. He really helped us find the guy responsible."

Suddenly, pieces clicked together, and Iris burst out laughing. "So the rumors are true, then."

Felicity froze. She blinked several times. "What rumors?"

"Dad says the department has been buzzing that the captain received an email from Queen Consolidated praising his work on a recent case." Iris continued laughing then stopped for a moment. "You mean Barry got to meet Oliver Queen?" Oliver had had his fifteen minutes of fame after he had come back from the dead, but Iris had mainly heard about the Queen family because of the trial. It didn't really matter from where she had heard about him though; Oliver Queen was now a minor celebrity.

"Yeah," Felicity shrugged. "I didn't realize people would make such a big fuss about the email I made Oliver write."

"Don't worry. From what I could tell, it's considered one of the wackier stories floating around the fishbowl. Not that I would know. My dad's the detective, not me." Iris gave a small huff. "Plus, he's probably super-receptive to rumors regarding Barry. Dad got really protective of him since he took him in."

Felicity's eyebrow's perked. "Where do you work, exactly?"

"Well, I'm not working yet, outside of interning and being a teacher's assistant." Iris threw on a goofy smile, while she swooshed a thumbs-up through the air in a cartoony gesture. "I'm just pushing my way through grad school. Hoping to get a degree in Psychology."

A thoughtful, then reflective, look passed over Felicity's features. Suddenly a twinkle appeared in her eye. "Sounds pretty smart."

"Barry says so, but I think he's just trying to encourage me," Iris responded, not knowing what else to say. She didn't want to come out and ask the other woman what she was thinking.

"I bet you really are smart, and he's not just saying it," Felicity said, continuing to smile like she knew too much. She checked her watch. "I was here for a while before you arrived, so I'll be heading off now. It'll give you some alone time with him." With that the girl with the pink accessories from Queen Consolidated left.

* * *

><p>As the months progressed the doctors told the West family that while Barry Allen was recovering remarkably quickly, there was still no guarantee that he would ever wake up again. These doctors did not take into account the will of the Speed Force: it wanted him to <em>move<em>.

It would be too much to characterize the Speed Force as having concrete thoughts. It didn't have a mind _per se_, and one shouldn't anthropomorphize extra-dimensional sources of energy. However, the Speed Force and similar entities are not entirely without feelings. The Red and the Green, for example, want to preserve the animal and plant life of Earth. Similarly, the Speed Force wanted to move. Each of these probably had slightly more nuance to their wishes, but interpreting each too closely would be folly.

As such, the Speed Force couldn't allow its conduit to stay in a coma forever. How infuriating would that be.

Unfortunately, the Speed Force could only do so much. For one, so little of it existed. Very little of the Speed Force had come through with Barry's soul sliver, and most of what had made it had dissipated. There had not been an extra-dimensional pocket to hold it at that point. For comparison, if the Speed Force that would one day develop were an ocean, the amount to which Barry Allen currently had access was a teaspoon. While that typically wasn't that bad for the Speed Force, Barry could only move involuntary muscles such as the heart and diaphragm. With the intravenous tubes delivering nutrients into Barry's bloodstream, his digestive system and therefore the corresponding muscle linings had shut down. Consequently, the Speed Force was replenishing itself very slowly.

Moreover, the Speed Force could only do one thing: make things go faster. This would typically be great for protecting its conduit, but the damage was extensive - and worse, delicate. If the Speed Force pushed too hard, something might heal incorrectly, dooming the conduit to sleep until the family finally pulled the plug.

These two conditions together forced the Speed Force to hold back.

But, help it did. Nutrients reached the necessary areas quicker than usual. Cells divided and grew sometimes twice as fast, replacing those that were damaged or dead or dying. The lingering traces of the chemicals worked their way out of his system faster. Barry's body fought to keep up.

For all of these little miracles the Speed Force worked, it left only one sign visible to the hospital staff; Barry Allen's heart rate was always elevated for a comatose patient, even though his brain activity remained below normal. It became a guessing game that spread from the hospital's coma department outward about what exactly was causing it. Numerous theories developed and those that gained significant traction went to the West family for testing approval. None panned out. The only hints Barry's body gave on the tests were some chemicals that should have filtered out of his body at least a month prior to the test, but no one could connect those chemicals to an elevated heart rate. In the end, people started assuming that the chemicals were somehow forcing his heart to work harder for the same effect because no better explanation presented itself. The mystery remained.

In the first weeks of October 2014, Barry's heart rate increased further. His brainwave activity spiked. An hour later he opened his eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: For those to whom it is important, while ships are not the focus of this work, that does not mean they will never appear. Westallen is and always was the endgame for this fic (basically like on the show).


	3. Chapter 2: Metabolism

beta'd by Quartic Moose. Again, this was written way before the show came out.

The medical field is not my area of expertise, so if you notice an inaccuracy don't hesitate in telling me. I may or may not make the change (I am taking some liberties year with the physical laws), but I at least want to know if and where I am being ridiculous.

**Chapter 2: Metabolism**

Barry felt like he was drifting. In a few ways, it was like drifting out of a dream. He couldn't quite remember how he fell asleep, and he was too comfortable to care. Later, once he actually felt like thinking, Barry would compare it to a Saturday morning, when he's gotten enough sleep but still doesn't want to get out of bed. Considering what he would learn of his situation, it'd seem an apt analogy.

The feeling also mirrored a more physical interpretation of 'drifting.' When one wakes up from a dream, one feels the bed and pillow beneath and the sheets above. Owning a particularly comfortable bed set only contributes to the apathy. However, Barry did not feel that laziness or even some of the more unexpected-yet-plausible feelings one could have, such as the stiffness, rigidity, and ache that accompanied falling asleep at a desk. There was a slight sensation of… _something_ along his skin, but his brain was too muddled to understand it. Moreover, he felt nothing else. He was detached from the solid, physical world. Drifting.

After a while, habit kicked in, and he attempted to adjust himself in what he hoped was his bed. He had fought against daylight too often for the fact that he wasn't even physically uncomfortable, or physically anything for that matter, to actually stop him from wrestling into the covers. Unfortunately, his body didn't seem to respond. That was somehow more disconcerting than the fact he couldn't feel or hear anything.

Wait. Barry could feel a slight movement; his head moved a couple degrees. It wasn't much, but it was a sign. An eternity passed.

The mental fog began to clear. Barry decided that he should actually wake up. He didn't feel tired, and without a comfortable bed there was no point in pretending to be asleep. The "without a comfortable bed" point was making itself especially known as feeling returned to his limbs. Fortunately, he had not fallen asleep on a desk. Unfortunately, he did not remember his bed being this stiff, and he felt several cricks and knots start calling for his attention. He could hear a beeping, though it still seemed far-off. Another feeling lingered at the back of his consciousness, but Barry's intuition said that it wasn't going to be pleasant, either. He let it linger where it was rather than draw attention to it.

Now that Barry had decided to actually think, he let the memories from the last few days trickle back in. He had come back from the case in Starling City, where he'd had a chance to meet and help the Hood - or was it now the Arrow? (Either way, Barry made a note to continue the mental celebration once he had more energy.) Next he had traveled to S.T.A.R. Labs only to miss the cutoff to see the particle accelerator open in person. Disappointment pulsed through his head. He had really been looking forward to Central City getting its own entry into particle physics. Barry found it sad that he had not even been surprised at his own lateness. Maybe if he stopped trying so desperately to be on time, he actually would be, in a weird corollary of Murphy's Law. Finally, Barry remembered Linda Park's announcement and the explosion he saw from his lab in the downtown police station.

The events that unfolded next didn't trickle in; instead they slammed against Barry like a tsunami. The lights going out, the floating chemicals, and the final lightning strike entered Barry Allen's brain all at once. If he had not been feeling so sluggish, Barry would have jumped out of bed right then and there. Still, with the memories came a flood of sensation throughout his body. All the cricks that had asked for his attention earlier suddenly stopped asking politely. The beeping, which earlier had been a pleasant reminder that he could actually hear, became loud and obnoxious. Barry's eyes snapped open.

He was confronted with an amazing amount of white in contrast to the total blackness he had seen before. White walls, floors, and ceilings surrounded him. White sheets and clothes he didn't recognize covered him. As Barry looked around, the only dashes of color he could find were the scrubs of what he assumed were nurses and doctors working around him and the readouts of the various machines that were attached to him.

Unfortunately, whatever thoughts Barry had had about the lightning strike or the hospital setting found themselves pushed to the side as the feeling which had previously only lingered at the back of Barry's mind rushed forward. At full intensity, he could finally identify it: hunger. Or at this level, Barry was inclined to ignore those who would call him melodramatic and label it starvation. He wondered why his stomach wasn't growling loud enough for the whole city to hear or, for that matter, at all.

Barry opened his mouth to beg for food or, as he would later put it, notify the doctors of the situation. That is when he discovered his mouth was dry; what started out as words in his head turned into hacking noises.

Somebody who Barry assumed was a nurse ran off and returned with water. She didn't hand it over. The oldest of the medical staff started speaking. "Mr. Allen, you have been in a coma for ten months. In that time, we have provided your body nutrients through IV, so your digestive system has shut down. Sip. Try not to swallow too much."

Barry wanted to scream at the man that he obviously hadn't put enough nutrients in the solution, but he had to satisfy himself with glaring. The man kept a straight face but took a step backwards as the nurse handed Barry the cup. Barry took a second to redirect his anger at the paper and water in his hand before taking a sip. It felt marvelous against his tongue and somewhat sweet. He glanced back at the older man in confusion. "It's sugar water to re-habituate your stomach to glucose." Barry let the water slide down his throat.

At first, nothing. Then, his stomach lurched.

Barry's eyes bulged, and he threw his torso forward before collapsing back on the bed. Waves of nausea radiated out from his abdomen.

"You're lucky your stomach doesn't have anything in it for you to throw up." Barry resumed his glare. He didn't feel lucky. The older man's face softened. "You're lucky to be alive at all, and your recovery so far has been miraculous. You survived not only a lightning strike but also severe chemical burns." The man's face hardened again. "Don't push yourself."

Barry shrugged, taking a deep breath. His throat didn't feel normal by far, but it felt better. He carefully formed the words in his brain and then his mouth. "When can I eat?" It took him forever to speak, and he still sounded hoarser than he believed possible.

The old man's eyebrows pushed together. He stood still for a moment, before hesitantly replying, "Take a sip every half-hour for the rest of the day, then we will see. Remember: only sip." The older man and the nurse quickly left the ward.

Barry pushed his head into the hospital pillow. Well, that was a strange experience. Though Barry couldn't say he had any previous experience with being comatose, personally or otherwise, the coma bit wasn't all that surprising. While most people walk away from getting struck by lightning, they still dealt with consequences. Thinking back to the chemicals on the rack, Barry knew that they weren't harmless either. In fact, Barry and Julio had labeled a number of them precisely because they shouldn't be mixed. Barry assumed that after being thrown in that direction by the lightning bolt the "definition of dangerous" mixture had covered him. How was he even currently awake?

But, the coma itself wasn't the strange experience. In fact, it was more of a non-experience. Waking up from a coma and being told he was missing almost a year of his life, _those_ were experiences he would never forget. Having a stomach and a tongue at war with each other… Barry glanced around the room looking for a clock and discovered it was 2 PM… for an entire afternoon and evening, he would remember that for the rest of his life.

Barry's stomach finally stopped complaining with each sip at six PM, though he did not dare drink more than the doctor recommended, even if his stomach had started growling. He'd learned his lesson three hours earlier when he had finally given into temptation and had let more than a sip slide into his mouth. It still wasn't much, weighing in at approximately four sips at most. Unfortunately, it was also enough to upset his stomach. Barry faugh to keep it in all through the next half hour, at which point the cup sat on the side table untouched.

Barry had trouble getting to sleep that night. His body still felt like he needed it, and throughout the night he slipped in and out of consciousness. Twice he had to take a sip a little late because he suddenly found his eyes blinking open to discover that it was five minutes past the half hour, which left him slightly disappointed at both being awake and missing the opportunity to drink. Unfortunately, whenever he got close to entering a deeper sleep, his hunger would gnaw at the back of his mind, pushing him awake. The hours dragged on until, at two in the morning, he finally fell truly and fully asleep.

The next morning, the older man, Dr. Engels, arrived shortly after Barry woke up asked how he was doing. He spoke slower than he had the previous night. Barry shrugged. "Starving, but other than that fine." He hadn't meant for it to come off so sarcastic, but he didn't feel bad about it either. Barry's stomach growled, and he cringed.

"Sounds like your stomach's awake." Dr. Engels gave a small laugh. "If you didn't feel nauseous last time you took a sip, try drinking the rest of the sugar water," Dr. Engels gestured towards the paper cup.

Barry's hand darted out to the cup and quickly put it to his lips, chugging down what was left over. Again, the sweetness ran over his tongue like a symphony, and while the sensation in his stomach was not entirely pleasant, it wasn't entirely bad either. He could ignore it. After finishing off the cup, which was not that big anyways, Barry took a deep breath. "Thanks."

Dr. Engels smiled. "I was starting to worry that I'd have to tell you that you couldn't have breakfast, and then you'd bite my head off." He gave a beckoning gesture towards the hallway. Somebody entered with a tray full of breakfast options including, but not limited to, several cereals, a bowl of fruit, a bagel, and a scone. It didn't look like the highest quality food on the market, but it was food, so Barry wouldn't complain. "There's probably more than you can eat, but continue until you are full."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows at the doctor, while he peeled a banana. "You want to see how much I will eat?"

"Your case is not exactly normal," Dr. Engels nodded. "We double checked the IV bags we had been giving you. They should have provided more than enough nutrients for you, especially considering that your body was almost completely shut down for the first four months." The doctor frowned. "I'm partly worried that you've lost the ability to feel full, and that this is all a trick of your brain chemistry. But, to tell the truth, I have no idea why you are hungry. Let's hope I'm wrong."

It took a moment for the idea to sink in. Barry stopped chewing for a moment. The idea of feeling like this constantly did not sit well with him. Still, Barry mused, the only way to find out whether he could get full was to eat, so he resumed eating. Finishing the banana, Barry moved to one of the cereals. It contained more sugar than he typically would have chosen, but right now it sounded like a good choice. He ate through that and moved to the bagel. In the end, Barry did not finish off all the food in front of him, but he consumed more than he would have during a normal breakfast or for that matter five breakfasts. "I'm full."

He glanced at Dr. Engels, who had wide eyes and an open mouth. The words "How are you not sick?" drifted out of the doctor's mouth. Barry fidgeted, carrying the same exact question. The doctor straightened. "I want to keep you here for a couple days under observation. If you notice anything else strange, don't hesitate to tell me."

At that moment Barry decided not to ask why the doctor was talking so slowly. Other than the fact that he managed to eat more than he thought possible, Barry now felt fine, and he didn't want to do anything to attract Dr. Engel's medical eye more than he already had. Staying at the hospital longer than necessary was not on Barry's wish list. He wanted to get back to work or at least do something. Some part of him also just wanted to move and have the freedom to move where he pleased. Instead Barry asked, "Do you know if I'll get any visitors today? If I have another day staring at the wall, I'll go insane."

"Well, your family has been informed, and you received plenty of visitors while you were in a coma. I bet some of them will be rushing over to see you."

Barry blinked. "By family do you mean the Wests or the Allens?"

"I believe both." Dr. Engels started to leave.

As the doctor approached the door, Barry yelled out, "Sorry for yesterday," He paused. "I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

Looking at what little food remained, the doctor laughed. "I'd imagine."


	4. Chapter 3: Perception I

Beta'd by Quartic Moose

* * *

><p>Before any visitors had a chance to arrive, Dr. Engels talked with Barry in order to judge whether his brain had completely recovered yet or not; apparently it was a part of some consciousness test to see if someone can hold a conversation.<p>

Barry's thoughts got lost once, but he managed to pull himself back together. In the end, he didn't do too badly. At least not as badly as the first time he'd woken up. Considering he didn't even remember waking up, Barry could believe that he'd been pretty out of it. After that piece of information, Barry didn't find it entirely surprising that the Wests would be eager to come over. The hospital had notified them earlier, but they were also told to wait until they determined whether he had any lasting brain damage. The hospital wanted the Wests to know what they were getting into before letting them visit.

After the conversation test, the hospital staff moved Barry out of the coma ward into a new room, which was not single. Well, his previous room had had three other patients, but because they were not just asleep but comatose, Barry had been able to ignore their presence. Not that his new roommate was obtrusive or anything; he was just there.

That, and he was hogging the TV, keeping it on sports channels. When Barry had asked him to change it to some more intellectually-stimulating programs such as the science channel or, god forbid, the news, the other man looked at him with an expression that clearly read, "How could you not like sports? What's wrong with you?" Barry decided not to push it. He wouldn't be so bothered, if he had anything else to do. Eventually he called the hospital staff, and asked if they could scrounge up something.

The hospital left him some magazines with which to entertain himself until his first visitor arrived. The magazines were nothing special; Barry figured the hospital staff had rustled through the various waiting rooms to provide him with some entertainment. They didn't even have a copy of Scientific American in the batch, and there were now ten different issues which he hadn't read; Barry would have to remind Iris or Daniel West to bring him some issues of that and Science Showcase to their next visit. Still, however inadequate the hospital's selection was, it did give Barry something to do to pass the time, which was an improvement over yesterday.

Even alternating between the pile and the television, Barry found himself going through the magazines quicker than he expected. He'd finish reading one magazine's articles and expect half an hour to have passed, but when he glanced up he discovered it was only fifteen minutes later, even though he had been trying to drag each magazine out. Perhaps reading slowly was impossible when the material was as superficial as what this particular actor or actress was wearing.

Fortunately, the Wests, or at least Iris and Daniel, arrived before he finished the pile. He wasn't surprised that Daniel's wife hadn't shown up. She had never been mean, but they had never been close. She hadn't been looking for a new child, especially a child picked up from one of her husband's cases. Barry didn't mind, though; he hadn't been looking for a new mother.

Daniel wore his civilian clothes, which were still rather formal, while Iris wore a pair of slacks and a blouse. Iris held her hands behind her back. She looked a little nervous. "I hope you're feeling ok enough to see us."

Barry laughed. "The only reason they have all these machines hooked up to me is because apparently the first thing you are supposed to do when you wake up from coma isn't ask for food, especially if they are feeding you through IV tubes." Seeing the worried look on his visitors' faces, Barry tried to give a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I don't feel bad at all. The hunger's creeping in again, but it's barely there now. I'm fine."

Iris's lips rolled. "Are you going to get out anytime soon?"

Barry let out a sigh. "They want to keep me under observation for a few days to see if anything else pops up, and I'll have to be doing some physical therapy to get my muscles used to moving again." The smallest of relieved smiles graced his lips. "That won't take very long though. I was only out for a year. People have come back from longer comas." His visitors didn't look completely convinced, but what else could he say? He wasn't going to deny the incident after he woke up.

Iris nervously shifted her weight. "It was still a long time."

Barry could feel a sudden silence between Iris and Daniel. It hadn't truly sunk in how hard it must have been for them, waiting for him to wake up.

Suddenly a question occurred to him. "It's kind of weird asking you guys this, but did you ever consider pulling the plug? I wouldn't hold it against you either way. It just feels like something I should know." Barry wasn't even sure what he wanted them to say. On one hand, he was alive and glad to be so, but on the other hand, he could sympathize with the reasoning behind not wanting to live only through the aid of machines. Moreover, he hadn't given the question much thought before going into a coma, so the Wests, who were legally his family, would have had to make the decision themselves.

Daniel sighed, "Son, I understand, but that is a question for another time." A weight settled over the older man's shoulders, which visibly dropped. His face settled downwards.

"No, Dad," Iris said flatly. "He deserves to know."

Daniel shot his daughter a short glare and shrugged. He didn't disagree with Barry's right to know that information. But, not knowing when, and for the longest time even if, Barry would wake up had been hard enough. The pieces of hope that had been laid out for them only made things harder at times. At this point Daniel just wanted everybody to focus on and appreciate the fact that Barry was awake.

Iris didn't pay attention to the reprimand, though. She turned to Barry and explained, "For two whole months, you made close to no progress. Another two weeks in, and doctors started to drop hints that we should consider cutting you off life support. They didn't say it outright but the message was clear." She took a deep breath. "For a whole week, the family debated. Most of us decided that you wouldn't want to live like that; it wasn't life. But…" Iris paused. The words lingered in her mouth and refused to leave.

Daniel filled it in. "We didn't want to be the ones to sign off on your death warrant."

Iris gave the smallest of nods and continued. "And then, just as we were about to work up the resolve to do it, you started getting better. Barely. In the smallest of steps. But, it was there, and it was steady. So, we couldn't; we had hope."

Barry glanced down then back into Iris's eyes. "That was the only time?"

"The only time the talks got that far," Daniel nodded.

Iris cringed. "The thought was always there like a dark cloud, especially during that week in the middle of the summer. You started plateau-ing. Physically you had recovered, but your brain still wasn't doing much then." She shook her head. "It wasn't as bad, though."

Barry sat there for a moment. He took a deep breath and nodded. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know how he felt about the situation. How could he comfort them for what they went through? What did they want him to say? Finally he decided to open his mouth. "Well, I'm alive now, and I'm fairly certain I'm all right. You don't need to worry over me anymore. Thanks for worrying when you did." It wasn't perfect, but at least it was something.

The family stood in silence. It wasn't the most pleasant of silences - nothing could be after the previous conversation. At the same time, it wasn't the most uncomfortable of silences either. Every half-formed sentence tasted awkward after everyone had swallowed a thought so heavy.

Finally Daniel decided to speak. He was always the least comfortable with silence. "Considering you will be here awhile it's a good thing we brought gifts then. I was worrying you would be getting out and not needing them." Iris took a bag out from behind her back and set it on the table next to Barry. Her movements were still tense, but Barry could see her slowly relaxing. "Look inside."

Glancing in, Barry immediately noticed a couple books. Smiling he reached in and carefully took them out. Barry's smile only grew. The bag contained Heretics of Dune by Frank Herbert, Foundation by Isaac Asimov, and The Farthest Shore by Ursula K. Le Guin. Books he had been meaning to get around to for ages but never did because of his busy work schedule.

But, those were only the books. Unnoticed at first glance because of their thinness, two comics lined the bottom of the bag. One was an old issue of Green Lantern, while the other was a Flash comic. Barry grinned.

If pressured, Barry would admit that the lantern and helmet were goofy. A little more pressure would reveal that sometimes the two series revealed their ages in less-than-flattering ways; AC Entertainment had stopped printing them part-way through the eighties. However, no one could make Barry deny that he was a longtime fan of both. While everybody knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man and that Steve Rogers was Captain America, Barry knew very few people who could say that Jay Garrick and Alan Scott were the Flash and Green Lantern, respectively, and could also go on about their personal and heroic lives.

Barry did not read the series in an attempt to be hipster. During middle school, he had stumbled into an old comic shop, and the owner had shown him some of the old series including Green Lantern. He'd gotten hooked on the hero's mystical adventures. He couldn't read it as often as he could the current series, because the issues were getting more expensive and harder to find, but he always saved up some of his money specifically for a Green Lantern issue.

Two years after picking up the Green Lantern series, Barry stumbled across an issue where the titular character teamed up with the Flash. Barry was instantly hooked. Here was somebody, albeit a fictional somebody, who specialized in super-speed but, unlike his mother's killer, used his powers for good. Of course, after all the criticism he received for saying the truth about what had happened, Barry didn't give that reason for his sudden interest when explaining it to his friends. His family quickly caught on, however, and had reactions that ranged from frustration to support.

Barry kept holding the Flash comic, still in its plastic sleeve. "Thank you."

"We thought you'd have some time to enjoy the classics of the genres you've decided to call home," Iris shrugged. Barry knew she had mysteries as her novel of choice, but she'd also kept track of his reading list around gift-giving time, even if she didn't personally want to read the books.

Daniel West gave out a hearty laugh. "That and you've missed Christmas and your birthday, so we had to get you something."

"Oh, and something else," Iris picked up another bag. Unlike the first bag, which could easily have come from Barnes & Noble, this one was more of a messenger bag. It was functional and could hold a decent amount of stuff, but it also was somewhat decorative and worn over only one shoulder. "On the way here we stopped by your apartment and grabbed your laptop, your cell phone, chargers, etc. The essentials." She handed the bag over. "You can't keep the case. I usually keep my notebooks in there."

"Finally! A connection with the outside world," Barry halfway joked, while retrieving his electronics.

Daniel West raised an eyebrow at Barry with a mock expression of seriousness. "See, that spare key I had you give us came in handy after all."

The conversation continued onward from there. _How was the rest of the family doing? Did you know Wally insisted on visiting you when his family came to visit over the summer? He's in high school now. Your dad missed your annual visit_. Iris and Daniel informed him about the small but important pieces of information regarding the group of people Barry had eventually come to consider a second family. They were still second to those that had raised him until he was eleven, and the extended biological family he rarely saw. But, while it wasn't his biological family's fault for being absent, the Wests had actually been there through middle and high school.

Eventually, because both Daniel and Barry shared the same workplace, the topic of conversation drifted there. Daniel started towards it first, "Have you heard about all these unexplained cases that popped up since the incident at S.T.A.R. Labs?" Iris's eyebrows knit together.

Barry shook his head in confusion. "No. The TV has been on ESPN all day, and I doubt any of these mentioned it." Barry picked up a couple of the magazines. "The nurses and doctors don't really have a reason to tell me, but then again, for all I know the Lower East Side could have burnt to the ground after the particle accelerator explosion." The only reason Barry knew that neither World War Three nor the zombie apocalypse had struck while he was asleep was that he really hoped people would be a little less worried about the home football team and what dress Scarlet Johansson was wearing in those circumstances.

Daniel laughed. "Well, they wouldn't know just how weird these cases are anyways, though some of it does get to the media." The smile that always accompanied a good story was creeping onto Daniel's face, "Some of these cases have had the department stumped for months."

He paused, obviously trying to build suspense. When Iris didn't chime in with her quip, Barry hesitantly provided it himself. "We're lucky Iris isn't a reporter." Numerous times Iris had used this to make her father notice that he was accidentally providing information the department hadn't cleared for the public yet. Often Daniel would just get carried away telling an interesting thing that happened at work. Fortunately, the family had also been trained since a young age not to repeat their father's stories to their friends.

"Anything I'm going to tell you Iris has probably already heard."

Daniel was doing one of his storytelling pauses, which lasted just a little longer than normal breaks in conversation, when Iris interrupted, "Dad, can we just not?"

Daniel's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "I have mentioned all of these during our weekly phone conversations. I swear."

Iris's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about that. These won't just be unexplained cases for Barry, and you know it." Iris made a sweeping gesture towards the bed where Barry lay. "It's just going to encourage it." She purposefully looked at the two men in front of her. "Fine, you're going to talk about it anyway, but I don't want to be there for it, pretending like I approve." She looked Barry in the eye- "I'm sorry" and left the room.

Barry had heard that "I'm sorry" a million times before. _I'm sorry your mother died. I'm sorry your father killed her. I'm sorry you can't move on. I'm sorry you were in shock and invented a crazy story_. Iris was not always apologizing for something, but when Nora Allen's death or investigations into the unexplainable came up, it always seemed like she was. Barry really couldn't blame her; he probably did sound pretty crazy. But, the statements always hurt, and suddenly it would feel like a brick wall had landed between him and her. He didn't like it.

Daniel stood there, a little put off. His eyes hardened and looked somewhere in the distance. Barry had watched Daniel and Iris disagree over him before. Iris couldn't believe his story and accepted that his father must have committed the crime. She couldn't see why he couldn't accept it as well. While Daniel didn't quite believe Barry's story, he thought there was some kernel of truth at the heart of it. Not all of the evidence had completely added up in his opinion, and the kid had seen a blur attack his mother. Somebody else had been in the house; Daniel was willing to respect that.

After the awkward silence had dragged a bit too long, Barry decided he had to say something. "What exactly were these cases?"

Daniel sighed. It wasn't the same story it had been before, having had its enthusiasm deflated. "The most recent one involves a series of arsons. The buildings are going up so quickly, we think that there must be something high-powered behind it like explosives, but no one can find the trace substances something that big would require."

Barry gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged. "Couldn't the arsonist have used a flamethrower or a similar device? Because the flammable substances are contained inside the device, CSIs wouldn't find any at the crime scene. Plus, those are more likely to use gases anyways, so even if something was left behind, it would be fairly dispersed by the time any CSIs arrived. Not that they would make a habit of taking air samples anyways."

"The people assigned to the case don't think so," Daniel answered shaking his head. "Apparently, the buildings are just going up too quickly. If somebody was starting the fires with a handheld device, they'd be caught in the blast. Nobody would be able to get away without serious burns, not since we discovered that it would a bad idea to make suits out of asbestos."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows together. "The people side of things is not my specialty, but has any progress been made at that end? Maybe the guy is crazy, and you should be looking for somebody who actually has severe burns. Or, depending on how many arsons there have been, a whole group of people."

"We did have a psychological profiler come down from the FBI. Apparently, they have some agents specifically assigned to work on cases like this. In fact, if I remember correctly, they worked on your mother's murder. The guy asked about you, in fact, wanted to see how you were doing."

"I think I know who you're talking about." Barry narrowed his eyes trying to remember. It had been almost a decade and a half since the incident, and while he might remember the murder itself in vivid detail, the investigation afterwards was a blur of people in a completely different way. "Were they the nice tall guy and the scary redhead?" He did remember a man who had believed him and actually encouraged him to hold onto the memory. The man had also reassured him that while the road to finding answers was hard, they were out there. Barry also remembered a super-skeptical lady trailing the man around. While he couldn't remember whether the man was from the FBI or even recall his name, he remembered the man's words giving him a lot of hope.

"I think so," Daniel laughed. He took a deep breath. "The guy said it was probably an escalating pyromaniac, who just wants to see things burn, and unfortunately he's smart enough to choose targets he doesn't have a close connection to, at least from what we can tell. Still, we've detected a small pattern, so we're quicker to respond.

"That, however, is not the most dramatic example. Part-way through July, when we were having a wave of hundred-degree weather, bodies were suddenly turning up frozen. The victims were mostly criminals, but we suspected something closer to a turf war than a vigilante. There was one attack per criminal group, and we figured that if it was somebody with a vendetta, they would finish off one group before moving onto the next one. In another set of instances, illusions would pop up, providing distractions during robberies. Witnesses and cops would say they looked so real, but that after the robbery ended or something hit the illusions hard enough - such as a bullet - they would literally fall apart.

"Unfortunately, most of the time things quiet down before we can get a lock on these guys. There's still a stunt every once and a while, but it's not enough."

"Are you guys worried about a cop tipping these guys off?" Barry asked, before pushing his lips together. Nobody on the force wanted to admit that a fellow cop could do that, but with such coincidences…

Daniel shook his head. "It's a possibility, but it looks unlikely. There doesn't seem to be much of a connection between these events like there would be if there was a cop working for a particular gang. Funnily enough, the only connection seems to be that they generally happen in the portion of the city closest to the broken particle accelerator, the Lower East Side."

"Really?" So his sarcastic comment earlier turned out to be true.. "You mentioned that 'the people working on the case'. You're not on the cases yourself?"

"Nah, but I know someone who is. 'Figured you'd want to hear about it when you woke up."

Barry smiled. "Thanks." A comfortable silence drifted over the pair. "I guess we should fetch Iris now that we're done talking about this."

"And ruin the perfect moment to gossip about her love life?" Daniel West was only half joking. Neither man wanted to gossip in the usual connotation of the word; they were not trying to find a juicy scandal or work against Iris in anyway. However, while Daniel would approve of a relationship between Barry and Iris, he wasn't going to interfere too heavily, and at this point that included notifying Iris of Barry's feelings. Unfortunately, the kid he had already come to see as a son obviously needed a push when it came to relationships. A girl could probably ask him out to his face and he wouldn't believe it.

"She only sees me as a sibling and a friend, and if she is happy elsewhere then so be it." Barry was getting tired of his father figure's nudges, but though they filled his voice with exasperation, they also gave him a little hope. At least if he and Iris ever got together, he wouldn't have to hide from a disapproving father.

"Well, she switched boyfriends twice while you were out, so I wouldn't count on that happiness elsewhere just yet." Daniel was already walking toward the door to fetch Iris. They had had this conversation before. Most had already been said.

Iris returned; the family talked some more. The conversation flowed pleasantly, and eventually Daniel West left to give Barry and Iris some time.

As soon as Daniel left the room, Iris's expression turned deathly serious. The muscles which had been pulling Iris's lips into a wide smile suddenly relaxed, leaving what others would think was a neutral expression. Barry knew better. Iris's eyebrows dropped a full centimeter, and her eyes narrowed. If Iris had been looking at a piece of paper and perhaps tapping a pencil against her lips, Barry would have guessed she was working on a particularly hard homework problem. Unfortunately, she was looking at him. A shiver went down his spine.

She stared at him for a full moment or two. Barry was getting confused about how long a moment was supposed to last anyways, but this dragged on longer than was comfortable. Finally, she spoke, "Barry, tell the truth. Are you really ok?"

Barry blinked several times; he hadn't been expecting that. Typically Iris was very good at telling whether Barry was telling the truth, dodging around something, or actually lying, and he had been telling the truth earlier. There were some things that should have bothered him. The fact that he had been so hungry earlier and managed to eat more than he thought his stomach could hold provided an example. How slow everything seemed to be going came at a close second. But, now that he had food in his stomach, the former didn't seem so bad, and the latter didn't bother him too much so long as he didn't pay attention to it. In fact, if anything he felt physically better than when he went into the coma.

Not knowing what else to do, Barry shrugged. "I'm fine." A pause. Iris didn't look totally convinced. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You just…" Iris twirled her hand through the air, fishing the ideas out of her skull. "seem on edge." Barry raised an eyebrow. "You jump too quickly at things. Talk too fast." She titled her head. "I know the speed at which you roll, and this is not it. What's wrong?"

He was going too fast? Barry didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't, letting it mull over in his head. Everyone else did seem slower than usual. If he hadn't been trying to ignore the change of pace, Barry might have asked Iris the same question in reverse. He had been ignoringit though, so he hadn't considered what it might look like from the other side.

Before he had a chance to say anything though, Iris started in again. This time she looked down rather than into his eyes. "I should have expected this or something like it. It's not exactly my field of study, but I decided to look into comas while I was out. The readings said things like this could happen. People take a while to recover. Some never completely do.

"But, you've always been there for me. Even if we weren't having our study parties like we did in college, you still provided a shoulder to lean on when I needed it. You'd hear out my problems even if you didn't have the answer, and that was enough." Iris gave a half-laugh. "I came in to talk to you most Fridays, while you were out, but it wasn't the same. I wanted you to wake up, so we could get back to life the way things were. I kept on imagining you'd get up and come visit the campus like nothing happened, even if I knew how unlikely that was."

"Iris," Barry sighed. "I'm sorry for being away for so long."

Iris laughed. This was a hearty laugh that contained a trace of an amused giggle. "You couldn't help getting struck by lightning and covered in chemicals. Even if you were doing something stupid," Iris gave him a look that clearly read 'and you occasionally do,' "The odds of that happening are phenomenal. I mean, that was the night you got back and the night of the particle accelerator explosion. The night of improbable events." She continued with a shallower laugh. "You know I thought someone was pulling a prank on me when I found out."

A smile spread on Barry's face involuntarily. It was nice to hear Iris laugh. After enjoying the moment for one of his elongated seconds, he put a serious face back on. "Point is, I also want to get back to my life, and Dr. Engels said there's a good chance I'll be able to. However, I probably am a little frazzled."

An amused but also withdrawn smile crawled onto Iris's lips. "I can hardly imagine. Being in the lab one moment then waking up in a hospital room. I'd freak."

"Oh, that isn't even the half of it," Barry groaned. "I mentioned that I woke up feeling hungry." Iris nodded. "We're still trying to figure out why. At first the doctor thought that something might be wrong with my brain chemistry, but now he thinks that the chemicals messed with my basal metabolic rate. They hadn't noticed earlier because I was already in a coma, so my body had no way of telling the world that it was starving."

Iris's amused expression immediately dropped. "Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"I did somewhat, but you guys were already freaking out. I didn't want to push it." Barry glared for a moment. However, he wanted to comfort Iris, not chastise her, so he also gave an apologetic shrug. "Physically, I feel fine now, so don't worry too much. I'll keep you posted."

"Yeah, well, if anything comes up, tell the doctor immediately. If you don't I will drag you to him myself. You need to rest."

Barry flinched. That didn't sound too restful to him. But, with the threats out of the way, the conversation could continue in other directions. Barry practiced talking slower, partly to let Iris calm down and partly so other people wouldn't catch onto him operating at the wrong speed. At first, Iris would occasionally give him odd looks after he finished a sentence. Barry guessed that if you sped up somebody trying to speak whale you wouldn't get normal speech. However, by the end of the conversation the awkward glances had stopped, and Iris looked more relaxed: mission success.

Eventually Iris got up to leave, but Barry stopped her before she reached the door. "Thanks for coming. Not just now, but while I was comatose as well. It means a lot."

"The visits helped me as well," Iris shrugged. "Plus, I wasn't the only one who showed up."

"Really?" Barry offered playfully. They both knew that while he wasn't Mr. Popular, he did have one or two good friends in the family and at work.

Iris rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, the rest of the family came by every once and a while too. I heard some of your friends from work occasionally stopped by as well, especially somebody named Julio." Finally, Iris put on a mischievous expression which frightened Barry. "I even saw a pretty blonde from Starling City several times. You should call her up. She seemed worried."

Barry's eyes bulged in surprise. "Really?" He hadn't expected Felicity to stop by. A millisecond passed. "You guys met?"

"Yeah, she seemed nice." Iris shrugged before walking back over to Barry's bed. With this new conversation, it didn't seem like she'd have much of a chance to leave. As with many close friends, there was always something more to say and talk about or at least to share in silence. Barry was glad he could lose his time with Iris like that. Then, Barry noticed that her mischievous smile hadn't gone away, and he didn't know whether to feel comforted or scared. "So, how did you get involved with Oliver Queen's secretary?"

Barry's face burned bright red.

Iris laughed. "Just messing with you. We only met a couple times, but she did seem interested." Iris looked at her watch. "I'll call you up later. I still have some experiments to write up by tomorrow. Call you later? There's so much to talk about."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Though it gets a bit dark at times, it was fun to write and points at some things to come. Plus, that is what happens when you get into a coma for 10 months. Your family has to wait and worry, and overall it's not fun.

In the meantime, I included some cool references as well:

The Glasgow coma scale includes a section on talking.

Science Showcase was the magazine Barry used to cover his head in "The Scientist"

When I started high school my parents decided that if I was going to be into science fiction and fantasy I should read some of the classics, so I read Dune and Children of Dune. Barry is obviously past that point. Recently I've gotten into the Foundation series by Isaac Asimov, though Barry hasn't started that. I remember reading something by Ursula L. Guinn, but it was a while ago, so I actually had to look that one up.

Showcase # 4, which was Barry's debut in the comics, shows Barry with an old issue of the Flash (as in Jay Garrick). Thus, the multi-verse was created (while technically they had to later come out and say it when Jay and Barry met, but the point is, it is in that moment that they would have had to exist in different universes)

The FBI agents were a total reference to the X-Files, though they might require moving the dates for the X-Files forward a bit to get it too work. Barry, the truth is out there!

And many other references I don't have time to list.


	5. Chapter 4: Perception II

Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or any ideas that come from there. However, I need to plan ahead for this story, and I cannot read the minds of the writer's of Arrow. Thus, this will be diverging from the show. I will try to work in things from the show as they come out, but I will not be able to do this for everything. Considering this is the first chapter where that will actually be an issue, I figured I should give you guys a heads up.

**Chapter 4: Perception II**

After making the mandatory calls to his boss and relatives, Barry decided to call Felicity. They had only known each other for a couple days but things had just clicked between them. From that first moment, she had grabbed his eye, though admittedly not for very long. He had been busy thinking about the case at that point. It's pretty hard to quickly come in and analyze a scene like you were supposed to be there when in fact you had only seen a blip about the case on the inter-departmental police network. Hiding his excitement that the case was actually panning out had also distracted him. Most of the time, Barry saw the hint of something weird and unexplained on an out-of-town case, but when he arrived on the scene, nothing came together like he had expected.

However, when Felicity Smoak opened her mouth to answer the officer's question, Barry immediately perked up. It wasn't that she knew what a centrifuge was; everybody should know that. It was how she described it. She not only used the right words, including centripetal acceleration, which he didn't expect someone without a science background to know without a reference, but the words also felt at home in her mouth. She hadn't hesitated before speaking. She didn't sound like she was trying to sound smart. She just was.

Barry had immediately reevaluated her. She wasn't just the pretty secretary that the police memo had mentioned would be visiting the crime scene with the company's CEO. She wasn't just there to take notes on what the CEO and the officer discussed. She was there to help assess the situation. She was a vital part of the team and, considering the crime happened at an Applied Sciences warehouse, perhaps the most vital.

After Felicity had invited him to work with Queen Consolidated's internal investigation of the case, Barry noticed other things about her. First, she was dedicated to her work. Not her official job, of course; Barry rarely saw her actually doing secretarial work. But, when she saw something was important, such as the break in, she threw herself into it, making sure that it was done as quickly and effectively as possible. Second, the physical sciences weren't even her strong spot because she focused on the computer sciences. This made her earlier comment all the better. Third, even when she was working on something seriously, she had a sense of humor. She didn't watch what she had to say like the real her was fifty leagues away, judging you on a hundred different levels. Felicity was there, and she could laugh. In fact, this list could go on and on, but Barry decided to end it there.

On top of all these uncountable things that made Felicity awesome, she was actually into him. That just didn't happen. His luck wasn't that good. The prime example of this was Iris. She was beautiful. Barry admired her. They were close. But, she would never see him as more than her adopted brother.

Barry sighed. There was a reason Felicity had to spell things out completely, when she had asked him to go to the company gala.

The fact that Felicity helped the Starling City vigilante was just the icing on the proverbial cake. She was doing something important with her life. Starling City had had more than its fair share of crisis, and Barry had realized a while back that the Vigilante couldn't save the city with archery skills alone. He needed to know who to shoot and when they were going to be there. Plus, most of the information necessary to stop, or come close to stopping as it were, Malcolm Merlyn's plot against the glades couldn't have been found by interrogating the local scum. That was how he had guessed that the Vigilante had a hacker on the team. Discovering that he had been right, that the hacker was Felicity, and that she trusted him with the Vigilante's life and secret was a little overwhelming.

Barry wouldn't have immediately called her on just that though. They had only known each other for a couple days. A couple amazing days, but a couple days none the less. Barry might not have felt it, but he had to acknowledge that ten months had passed. Plus, who visits somebody they knew for less than a week in the coma ward?

Apparently Felicity does. A smile graced Barry's lips at the thought. He had been pleasantly surprised to hear about her visits from Iris. Apparently Iris thought that Felicity felt a little guilty because she had been the last person to speak to him before the lightning bolt struck him. She might also think that if Barry hadn't gone to Starling City or hadn't stayed as long as he did, he wouldn't have been in the lab waiting to be struck. Then again, Iris did have a tendency to over analyze people psychologically, and, in any case, Felicity deserved to know that he had woken up.

Thus, Barry found himself with his cell phone against his ear, after having found her number in his contact list. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth in anticipation.

_Her phone rang._

Now that Barry was actually calling Felicity up, he realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. His previous conversations with friends and family had been awkward enough, and he knew how they were going to react. Felicity had taken the time out of her schedule to visit him in the hospital, so she would probably be happy.

_Her phone rang._

Then again, Iris had mentioned that in recent months, she hadn't seen Felicity as often. Felicity could have visited at different times than Iris did or could have gotten busy working with the Arrow, but she also could have given up on him. Imagine how awkward that would be. He still had a crush on her, and the memories of them working together and dancing at Moira Queen's gala lay fresh in his mind. Finding out she no longer cared would sting. Add on to that the awkwardness inherent in hearing a paraphrased "I'm glad you're awake, but I honestly don't care" from anybody.

_Her phone rang._

Still, Barry's hopes stayed up. His mind ran in paranoid circles, but he kept his phone to his ear. Even if Felicity had moved on, she seemed nice enough that she wouldn't completely block him out. They had clicked the first time; they could click again.

Moreover, while Barry did not want to hear the news, on some level he would want to know if she had moved on. It would hurt for sure, but he did not want to keep his head in the clouds fawning after Felicity if he didn't stand a chance. He'd spent far too long waiting for Iris, and being with Felicity had reminded him that he needed to live with the people he was with. While Felicity could never replace the role Iris has had in his life, it simply meant Felicity was awesome in a different way, and using Iris as standard for everyone would have hidden that. Ignoring other people in his life over a doomed relationship with Felicity was an irony he did not want any part in.

_Her phone rang._

The physical presence of Barry's phone suddenly increased. Barry glanced awkwardly to the side. His already knotted stomach sank. Was she going to answer the phone? Now, he had to worry not only about what he was going to say and how she was going to react but also whether he'd have to go through that again.

Barry's muscles tensed another notch. His teeth pressed together. He stared at the wall in front of him. His lips formed a nearly straight line.

Finally, her phone went to voicemail. Some of his worry's immediately unwound. Others were packaged away for future reference. He prepared himself for the inevitable and anti-climatic request to please leave a message after the beep.

"You have reached the phone of Felicity Smoak. You probably could have guessed that I am not available right now." Barry's lips twitched towards a smile. At least she had left a recording instead of using one of those computerized messages. "In fact, I am currently attending a company retreat, and we won't have much in the way of reception. If you are calling regarding company business, please redirect your calls to Rochev's secretary, Natalie Shortman. If you are calling regarding personal matters, Diggle will determine whether it is urgent enough to contact me. Bye."

The customary beep followed, even though she hadn't asked him to leave a message. Barry hung up.

Well… that was unexpected and rather fishy.

Giving it a moment's thought, Barry realized that the reference to Diggle probably meant that this "company retreat" was a front for something Arrow related and therefore as phony as it sounded. Were they off on a mission? Barry shook his head. A company retreat was too long term for that. A mission would be "get in, get stuff done, get out", so she wouldn't need such a long term cover. Plus, the Arrow was rarely seen outside of Starling, and repeatedly declared the city under his protection. Barry couldn't imagine him leaving the city for too long if he could help it.

The "if he could help it" hung in Barry's mind. Something must have happened. Something big. Something newsworthy.

Barry pulled out his laptop and ran a few searches. Ok, he pulled up some bookmarked web pages dedicated to the Arrow, but the point remains the same.

Most of the news that appeared immediately was just the most recent sightings of the vigilante and therefore were not very informative. A few showed people he didn't know such as a blonde woman in leather and a smaller (younger?) person in a red hood. Apparently people were using the names Red Arrow and Green Arrow to tell the young newcomer and Oliver apart, and the woman was an ex-assassin who went by the name Canary. In the second such article, Barry noticed something strange in the picture of the (Green?) Arrow. The image's blurriness made it hard to tell, but it didn't look like Oliver under the hood. The man's skin and build seemed off.

Considering Oliver Queen had been accused of being the vigilante once, it made sense that he occasionally had other people, probably Diggle, dress in the hood to throw people off his scent. If somebody suspected a connection between Oliver and the vigilante, the vigilante's continued appearance while Oliver Queen had a confirmed alibi would magnify anyone's doubts. Just based on the news articles Barry had read, no one noticed the subtle differences between Oliver and Diggle wearing the suit, and everybody assumed that the Green Arrow was just one person.

Hell, now that Barry thought about it, Oliver had probably done it before, particularly when he had been accused of being the Arrow. Barry had been following the Arrow as close as anybody, and while he did deduce more than most, these details had gotten by him as well. He'd realized the Arrow had help, but he didn't think that more than one person had been under the hood. Being fooled himself made him realize how little people notice.

On the other hand, in the short time Barry had spent in the Arrow's lair, he hadn't gotten the impression that Oliver regularly lent out his uniform to Diggle. The uniform was squarely Oliver's and symbolized something bigger to the heroic billionaire, even if Barry wasn't going to pretend to understand all of it beyond the connection between green and jungles. Therefore, Diggle probably needed permission to wear the outfit, and so this whole thing must have been planned out. Oliver Queen had left and knew he was going to be gone for a while. He had probably excused himself by suddenly creating a retreat to which he and his secretary would go.

That still didn't answer the biggest questions: what happened and where did they go? Barry figured only Diggle could answer where they went, but before calling the body guard, Barry wanted to have some idea about what went down. He scrolled further through the articles.

Once Barry hit mid-may a specific set of news stories jumped out. Barry didn't have to think twice before clicking on the link for the earliest one: "Arrow Prevents Assassination of Mayor-Elect, Moira Queen, and Her Family".

The article, posted May 15th, described how an unknown assailant attacked the Queen household. At the time the article was written no one knew the assailant's identity or even why he had made the Queens a target. No one even had a good picture or identification of the person, though eyewitness reports did provide some information. The person in question was male and in combat-ready gear, including not only the appropriate clothing and guns but also swords. He wore a bi-colored mask which was black on one half of the face and an orange on the other. Most interestingly, during the attack he displayed superhuman levels of strength and skill. Barry wasn't sure how surprised he was about the last piece of description.

The article then accounted that the Green Arrow lead a team, which included the vigilantes that the websites had come to call Red Arrow and Canary, against the assailant. It continued by saying that the team deterred but did not ultimately manage to kill the attacker.

Unfortunately, the article was not nearly as detailed about the team or the rescue attempt. Not much information was available to the public about the team, and what information was available had been reported in previous articles. Only one piece of information was useful. While not as skilled as his green counterpart Red Arrow apparently could trade blows with the assailant. Whatever had happened in Starling, mirakuru was obviously involved on both sides. Moreover, while it wasn't the reporter's job to give a play-by-play description of the ensuing fight, Barry was curious how it went down. Not only was he an Arrow fan, but he also now had a personal connection to what was going on.

Barry got the feeling that there would be numerous unanswered questions until he called Diggle, but he continued browsing articles related to the event. Though Diggle seemed friendly enough, they were still practically strangers, and the call was going to be awkward enough, anyways. Barry would rather have the Green Arrow's teammate fill in any gaps of knowledge rather than start from scratch.

A thorough search revealed a few more odds and ends. A news release posted a week after the event connected the assassination attempt to Moira Queen's main rival during the election, Sebastian Blood; the mayoral candidate had wired a significant sum of money to a group connected with an international mercenary called Deathstroke, who fit the assailant's MO. A video of Moira Queen's subsequent press conference showed her expressing deep regret that Blood, a man who had so much to offer the city, would resort to such low methods to obtain office but that the city must focus on how to move on and grow after such tragedies. In short, it was a bunch of political mumbo jumbo. Sebastian Blood's reply tried to deflect attention away and claimed that he had been framed. At the same time, the formerly popular political star was desperate; he knew how damning the evidence was.

Even the Green Arrow gave a public statement, albeit a brief and forced one. While Oliver Queen was on record as supporting Blood's candidacy, apparently his hooded alter-ego had a different opinion. According to the Green Arrow, Blood had not been involved in the attack on the Queen household but had enough blood on his hands, no pun intended, for that to matter.

As interesting as all this was it didn't answer the most basic question: where was Felicity? Barry finally picked up his cell phone and called Diggle.

Fortunately, the phone only rang twice before the other man picked up. "Hello?" He sounded confused. Barry guessed that not many people called that number.

"Hi. Um…" Barry fiddled with the words in his head before deciding that everything would come out awkward anyways. "This is Barry Allen. I helped you guys out on a case a while back."

Diggle inhaled sharply. Then, Barry only heard a pause. "You're awake?"

"Yeah, it happened two days ago." He gave a half hearted laugh. "I was wondering where Felicity was. I called her phone, and it mentioned a company retreat, but I figured that wasn't really what was going on."

Diggle sighed. Again, there was silence on the other end of the phone, but this time it felt heavy. The Arrow's assistant and friend took another deep breath before asking "How much do you know about what went down in May?"

Barry shrugged offhand. "Not much. I mean the papers had some information, but it was all pretty confusing and roundabout. I mean there was an attack on the Queens by an assassin named Deathstroke, it looks like Sebastian Blood was connected to it, but you guys don't completely think so. There's just too many pieces missing."

He could practically hear Diggle shaking his head. "I'm not sure how much Oliver would want me to tell you; he has unhealthy habit of keeping certain pieces of information to himself. But, you already know the biggest secret, and you should know where Felicity went, so I'll give you the basics."

Barry merely gave an affirmative "Uh-huh" to let Diggle know he was still listening.

"We couldn't exactly tell the papers that Oliver knew Deathstroke from the island, and they hadn't exactly left on good terms." Barry was glad Diggle paused there because he needed a moment for the information to sink in. "In fact it was so bad that Deathstroke spent the better part of five years plotting how to make Oliver's life miserable. Some of those plots involved Sebastian Blood, but it was Deathstroke using him and not the other way around. The attack on the Queens was the last attempt to make Oliver pay by going after his loved ones.

"The team then decided that everyone close enough to Oliver to know the secret needed basic combat training. It wouldn't necessarily be enough to fight off someone like Deathstroke, but our lives are dangerous enough that we all need it. We spent a month planning it out, so everybody would have a decent excuse to spend the appropriate amount of time training. Those of us who already had some experience fighting would spend a few weeks picking up new skills and teaching others. Those whose skill sets did not revolve around combat, though, had shifts that lasted a month or more, depending on how long they could leave their other lives."

Diggle stopped, but Barry could feel the answer in the air. Felicity had one of the longer shifts, and she was still on it. "But, where exactly did she go for the training?"

Barry heard a laugh. "Don't ask me why, but Oliver decided on the island. I guess it might have some symbolic significance to him, and he spent so much time there that maybe it's like a second home to him now. But, after hearing some of the stories from that time, I'd be avoiding the place worse than hell."

Suddenly Barry found himself gagging in surprise. He'd guessed it must have been somewhere remote, but that seemed a little extreme. It took a little bit to get his breath back, and once he did, he asked, "So saying that they have bad reception there is an understatement?"

"Yeah. It will take a boat and plane ride to extract them. I'd better start getting that set up."

"No. no. You don't have to do that. When I called, I… thought she would be closer." It would have been nice to talk to Felicity, but this seemed a bit much

"She only has a week left on her shift anyways, and she would want to know you were awake. In fact she had trouble going because she got news that you had just climbed on the coma scale. She'll be happy to come back." Diggle sighed. "However, I have to warn you not to get your hopes up; she and Oliver got together while you were gone."

Barry clenched his teeth together. "Kay. I'll keep that in mind." Barry wasn't entirely surprised, but that didn't mean he had to get excited over it either. "Well, bye."

"Bye."

Barry hung the phone up, and placed it on the table beside him. In some ways this was the worst outcome that could have happened. Somehow that conversation managed to get his hopes up and crush them at the same time. He still wanted to talk to Felicity, but he wasn't looking forward to it nearly as much.

**A/N:** The biggest question you guys probably have is whether Sara and Oliver had a relationship in this universe. The answer is yes. Diggle just didn't think Barry needed to know that information. More information on this will occur later in the story. However, Oliver and Felicity getting together was already planned, when Sara and Oliver got together, why I am having them break apart is not super-central to the story and hence not a spoiler. Moreover, I thought this would make a great fanfic idea, so I thought I'd share it because I am too busy with this story. See the paragraph below.

**After "Heir to the Demon", Sara was recovering. Before that she was no longer an assassin, but she was too busy running to find a new role for herself and heal all the damage that killing had done. This doesn't mean that Sara doesn't love Oliver; she does. It's just that after she grows into her new role and feels more comfortable, she decides she wants to explore being a hero and see the world from this new perspective. Meanwhile, "Birds of Prey" left Helena in the perfect position for a redemption arc because of that scene with Oliver at the end; she realizes she was wrong, and Oliver tells her that he was closer to her position than he would have liked to admit, giving her hope of becoming a hero herself. I want to see a Birds of Prey team up, perhaps taking place over the summer. More female heroes are welcome and encouraged; see Laurel for Question 2014 on my profile. Point is because Sara doesn't know how long she is going to be gone, she tells Oliver he doesn't have to wait for her, leaving Oliver open to realize his feelings for Felicity.**

Now, that is the in-story reason for why Oliver and Sara are no longer together. The out of story reason is that I love the Bi-Show Love Hexagon (see my profile for the complete list of members). I love Oliver/Sara, and I love Barry/Felicity, but I also like Olicity. In fact, while I ship Olicity less than these other two, I ship it enough to want to see it be canon at some point. Perhaps not forever, but for a decent bit. Moreover, Olicity will smooth out some plot points later in _Discoveries_. So, for clarification, them getting together is not taking sides in a shipping debate; remember Felicity wanted to know how Barry was doing as well.

On a separate note, the ending to "Birds of Prey" shows a different direction than what I have here, but its close enough that I thought I'd keep what I have.

On a last note, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I thought it would put an interesting twist to explore what the events look like to someone who is out of the loop.


	6. Chapter 5: Sight

Sorry for not updating sooner. My normal beta, AwesomePerson12, suddenly got busy and couldn't get to this chapter, so I had to track down somebody else. That person then had to read the rest of the fic and beta this chapter. I would suggest going to their AO3 account and checking out their work. They are willowoak_walker on that site.

And now for fic itself.

**Chapter 5: Sight**

Three more days passed in the hospital since Barry had tried to get in contact with Felicity. The doctors ran a barrage of tests to figure out what had happened to his metabolism, but they only found a few oddities that couldn't completely explain what was going on. Fortunately, once Barry had consumed the calories that his body had been missing while he was out, his intake at each meal dipped. Not back to normal, mind you, but Barry still found it comforting that he was only eating three instead of five times the average amount at each meal. His roommate had even stopped giving him creeped-out glances during meal times, though maybe he had just accepted Barry's oddness and moved on.

Moreover, Barry found talking slowly to people meditative. It required an enormous amount of patience and concentration, for one. Even if somebody was talking an especially long time to get the words out of their mouth, Barry couldn't glance away part way through the sentence. That would be rude, and if he let his mind wander too far he might miss a crucial syllable. Secondly, he had to get his mind in just the right place to pull it off, especially around people who knew him well. Because he didn't want a flood of visitors while he was still recovering, it was mainly people who knew him that well who showed up.

For that reason, he had been getting a lot of practice speaking whale. Perhaps by the end of his stay he would be fluent. He did hope that this condition related to the metabolism and that his doctors found some cure; learning whale had never been on his wish list, and it still wasn't. But engaging in such a meditative activity did have one good side affect: it slowed his elevated heart rate down.

Another highlight of Barry's day came during the physical therapy sessions where he was making good progress. His muscles had started out an atrophied lethargic mess, and his coordination had been gone, to boot. The first time he tried to get out of the hospital bed, his legs quickly became wobbly. The world spun, and he face planted into the floor. It hadn't exactly been his most glorious moment to date. But now he surprised his physical therapist by walking around, albeit on shaky legs.

All in all, the doctors only added a couple days to his confinement because of the tests' failure to yield any significant results. Even better, they had finally unplugged Barry from all the monitoring equipment that had been following him around. It felt nice to not have every single one of your vitals advertised to the world.

Fortunately, Julio was finally coming to visit Barry in the hospital today. His friend's lateness was partly because, while Barry and Julio got along, Julio was not one of Barry's closest friends. The two had learned a lot about each other working together for practically a year. Comparing the experience to his college days, it was not just like being in the same classes as someone, but it was like having them as a roommate as well. Fortunately, over the course of that year they had developed a friendship outside of their work as well because being stuck with somebody he didn't like would have been hell. But, this consisted mainly of Julio pestering Barry to get out of the lab. While Julio might learn of a heartfelt secret eventually, he would not be the first Barry would tell.

As such, Barry had not called Julio immediately with the news of his recovery. Barry already had his immediate family and doctors hovering over him and fussing over his health. He didn't need anyone else making his days more hectic, even if they had the best intentions.

Barry's delay wasn't the only reason Julio took so long to come in, though; Julio had had a busy schedule even after being notified. The first night he had to stay late running tests for a homicide; the second night he had pre-made plans with his girlfriend, Sabrina. Having worked with Julio at the department, Barry could easily believe both of the excuses. He would have to wait for the weekend before his friend could show up.

It was still nice on Saturday when Julio showed up around noon. A smile adorned his face. "Barry! My man. It's been forever."

Barry gave a chuckle. "Probably longer for you than for me." Barry tilted his head. "How are things going at the department?"

Julio shrugged. "I got promoted, so I no longer have to work under the demon named Patty Spivot. I mean she's great and all, but after the accelerator incident the workload picked up, and you suddenly weren't there to pick up the slack. It was hell." And it may have been, but at this point both of the friends were smiling. "But even with the promotion its same-old-same-old. The only thing I can say is that Detective West has been bouncing around the department the past couple of days, so while he hasn't said anything, no one will be surprised when you show up."

Same-old-same-old was not the answer Barry wanted. He'd been trapped in the hospital room, for crying out loud! Even with books and internet, he still wanted to hear about the outside world. "Oh, come on. Something must have happened."

Julio raised his eyebrows. "It's work. Who wants to talk about that? You were struck by lightning, got chemical burns, and went into a coma. That's interesting. What was it like?"

"For the split second that I can remember the lightning and chemicals, it was painful," Barry rolled his eyes. "As for the coma, it was a coma. I don't really remember much." Julio gave him a pointed glare. Barry laughed. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Looking back, it was a silly question, but you could have made something up." A twinkle entered Julio's eye. "When I do get you to go bar hopping with me, you are making up a story to tell the women." Barry shook his head. "Please. You can't have a crush on Iris forever, especially because she's like your sister, and you're not going to make a move. You need to live a little."

Barry was going to retort that it wasn't completely about Iris. He just didn't look forward to those kinds of activities on the weekends. However, his stomach beat him to it with a growl.

He'd been getting better at ignoring its cries for food, but only when he'd already fed it a ridiculous amount earlier. At this point, he hadn't eaten in four hours, which for his stomach was a long time. Barry held a finger up. "It is close to lunch time, and I finally won't drag fifty machines behind me if I get up. Let's try to find the cafeteria and continue this conversation there. However, we need to avoid stairs. My physical therapy is going well, but I still don't trust myself with them."

Julio gave a laugh. "That sounds like a plan. Do you know if they have anything good."

"Iris had mentioned that there's a McDonald's and a good Chinese chain, but I haven't been yet to see what else."

Julio raised an eyebrow, "A McDonald's in a hospital? Those things are everywhere."

The two friends wandered around the hospital, making their way towards the cafeteria. It took longer than expected. Barry had expected the signs to the cafeteria to be clearer. At one point they actually got lost. This would have actually been fun, something of an adventure even. Unfortunately, with shaky legs, walking the distance they had intended was awkward enough, and the detours only made things worse. The awkwardness had not only the physical aspect caused by his own clumsiness but also a social component as well. Barry didn't want to lean on Julio, so instead, he stood farther away than usual. The added distance was noticeable, and while it wasn't rude, it was uncomfortable.

Therefore, he was relieved when they finally entered the cafeteria.

Unfortunately, the room wasn't that big. It only contained three chain shops, the McDonalds, the Chinese chain, and an Italian place he'd never heard of before. The place didn't even have that many seats. Barry wasn't surprised. It may be a large hospital, but it was not the mall. Still, he had been hoping for a little more variety. He'd been eating the hospital's food in large quantities ever since waking up with only that one time Iris brought him take-out to relieve the monotony. His stomach growled loudly. Well, it was still an improvement. He wasn't going to complain.

Julio shook his head. "Does that thing ever shut up? I get that it's lunch time but that's a bit extreme."

Barry gave a small laugh. "Oh, have I not mentioned my metabolic condition?" While Barry wasn't exactly thrilled about it himself, eating a ton at each meal was just disconcerting, not painful or dangerous. He could live with it. So, as long as the other person didn't freak out too much, Barry could get a little bit of amusement out of people's reactions. Either that or he was just getting too bored.

Julio's head continued shaking. His eyes narrowed. "No. You haven't mentioned this."

"Oh, really?" Barry smiled. "My basal metabolic rate jumped after the accident. Now I have to eat a metric shit ton at each meal, when the doctors were only predicting a normal shit ton."

Julio stopped walking. "Ok. Now you're just pulling my chain, which is saying something 'cause you're not exactly known for practical jokes."

"Yeah, there's not much to do here. I think I'm going to go insane before I leave this place." Barry's expression turned serious again. "I wasn't lying about my metabolism having sped up though. The doctors have no idea what's going on. 'Think that's the main reason their keeping me here."

"Bummer." Julio rolled his eyes. "So, I should prepare to see you eat a lot."

"Yep." Barry got out his wallet and started fiddling through the bills. "In fact, if you are planning to go to the McDonald's or Villa Fresh, I'd like to get some stuff at both. It would be quicker if we each only went to one. I'll give you the cash now."

"Kay." Julio shrugged. "I'm heading to McDonalds. Anything in particular you want?"

Barry smiled. "A double cheeseburger would be nice."

"I'll see what I can do."

Barry went over to Villa Fresh, and stood in line. As soon as he reached the counter, he ordered two slices of pizza, an entrée of Macaroni and Cheese, and a soda. The staff didn't take too long to get him his food, and Barry started walking over to the table Julio had chosen.

The food court didn't contain that many people, but because the room was not the big to begin with, the few people who were there had to maneuver carefully between the tables and chairs in order to get anywhere. At one moment, somebody was backing up to get to their own family's table; it wasn't that far away, and they were eager to start eating. Unfortunately, Barry was going around the same table the other way. He accidentally moved in front of the other person. They collided.

They didn't bump into each other that hard; neither person was moving that fast. But, with Barry's already shaky legs, he had to lean forwards to catch himself. Food began sliding off his tray.

Already freaking out about the possibility of losing all that food, Barry didn't notice his mind instinctively reach out, grab something, and pull. He didn't notice as what had been a small trickle of extra-dimensional energy opened into a wider stream. He did notice when his perception started changing.

Unfortunately, in order to understand how Barry's perception changed, one has to understand a simple fact of human biology: one doesn't see everything at once, not even within what a person would think was their field of vision. The person is really glancing in various directions and stitching the picture together in their mind. Human eyes are not mere video cameras blankly recording everything at once. They prioritize and synthesize visual information with information streaming in from the other senses at real time.

As such, as Barry's brain noticed the food falling faster and faster towards the floor, it localized the visual area of concern and directed its attention towards it. However, Barry's soul now also had the aid of the Speed Force, and extra energy went towards the sections of the brain processing the images of the falling food.

This specific partitioning of energy towards specific tasks was already built into the system. For survival, whether as a hunter-gatherer, pastoralist, or horticulturalist dealing with animals and the direct acquisition of food from the environment or as an urban dweller dealing with the chaos and dangers of city life, humans need to effectively manage their time and energy; we can't deal with everything at once. The Speed Force doesn't have such dramatic concerns, but it also requires efficiency. It wants things to move; it wants those who channel it to run. If it let those who channel it use it whenever and however, it would find itself depleted with very few of its desires accomplished. Not to say it is all that picky, but it has standards.

As such the food's speed seemed to decrease. Barry had time to react to its shifting velocity. He noticed that cup soda was tilting, so that the soda would soon be able to leak out of the straw and the lid's plastic X. He could see how and in which direction each slice of pizza was sliding off of its paper plate. In contrast, the macaroni and cheese was sticking to its container, which was bouncing down his green plastic tray.

But, when Barry's eyes stitched the images together with the surrounding scene, Barry could also tell that the food was actually falling quickly, at least in comparison with everything else. Even more surprisingly, though, Barry would have been able to tell that the surrounding people were not moving slowly, or at least any slower than usual, if he had paid them any mind. The person eating at the neighboring table chewed on, obviously unaware of the potential disaster right beside them. The cars visible through the food court's window continued driving. The person who had bumped into Barry had already started to call out an apology. If he had been able to finish before the food hit the ground, Barry still would have been able to understand him.

It would have been a pity, if Barry had only watched. All that food gone to waste. However, Barry wasn't just watching. Even if he thought it was a futile effort, he was going to try to save what calories he could, and he had started the rescue attempt as soon as he registered the impending catastrophe.

First, energy shot from one part of Barry's brain to another. The sliver of Barry's soul that was used to coordinating such energies directed a portion of the Speed Force to his cerebellum, the region of the brain which controls balance and coordination. It may not be completely functional yet, but at least now it would have more time to make the proper adjustments. The sliver could feel Barry's hunger, but it didn't want him falling over for a piece of probably mediocre pizza, not when there was a better way.

Afterwards, the energy shot down Barry's arms. One hand adjusted itself to be directly under the tray's center of gravity, steadying the thin plastic object so it could be safely reloaded. The other hand darted towards the food. It first grabbed the soft drink. As a sugary liquid, that was the most dangerous of the items; imagine that getting all over the floor. Only a small spray managed to leave the cup. Next, it reached for the pizzas. Those were already going over tray's the edge, and Barry really didn't want to have to move the tray around in order to reach them. He did not think he could pull off those sorts of acrobatics yet. Finally, he steadied the macaroni and cheese, which was preparing to flip over the edge but hadn't done so yet.

His mind released the Speed Force. Only a trickle of inter-dimensional energy transfer now connected his body with the Speed Force. Barry couldn't pin the resulting feeling. It resembled taking in a breath of air after you hadn't noticed you were holding your breath, but it wasn't nearly as refreshing.

"Whoa, sorry there." The person who had run into him finished turning around. They looked at Barry's organized tray. "Glad you didn't spill anything. That would have been a mess."

Barry blinked. "Yeah, everything's fine though. Don't worry about it." Barry didn't need to concentrate to slow down his voice because he was weirded out enough that he did it naturally. Was he actually going crazy here? That wouldn't be a good sign. He sighed continuing his movement towards Julio's table.

He didn't acknowledge what he had seen. He didn't acknowledge that he had readjusted his grip on the tray in a fraction of a second or that his food had changed positions. He didn't acknowledge the fine mist of soda on the floor.

When Barry reached the table, Julio's eyes bulged. "Barry. That with a burger is a metric shit ton."

Barry rolled his eyes. "You've seen more food in one place."

"Not with only one person eating it. Those aren't even small slices Barry. In fact, anybody who would call them anything resembling small or medium must be blind. And that macaroni and cheese is definitely an entrée and not a side."

Barry shrugged and dug into his food; he had enough manners to not retort while eating. Once he put a sizable dent in his hunger by finishing the double cheeseburger and the mac' and cheese, Barry picked up a thought that had occurred to him earlier. "Julio, you actually might know more about what happened to me than I do."

Julio raised his eyebrow. "I've never been in a coma."

"One moment I was being fried by lightning the next I was slowly waking up to discover a year had gone by. That doesn't exactly give me a wealth of knowledge. If anything, it does the reverse, considering I was unconscious." Barry glared at his friend. "I was knocked backwards into a rack of chemicals. From what I've gleaned from the medical reports, that caused just as much damage as the lightning strike and is part of the reason I was out so long." Barry gave Julio a moment for the information to sink in. He took a bite of a pizza slice.

He finished chewing. "I'd want to know what was on the shelf. The medical reports only mention what's relevant for that particular finding; they don't go into a full list." Julio stared blankly. "We kept a lot of beakers on that shelf; I can't remember every last one of them."

"Why do you want to know?" Julio gave half a laugh. "Is something wrong or are you a masochist who wants to relive the pain? Don't you look at me like that. You've spent enough time holed up in the lab investigating your mother's murder that I wouldn't be surprised. It's unnatural how you don't give up."

Barry threw up his hands, before putting on a frustrated expression and holding up a finger. "One, I keep on investigating because I want to know what happened. Not what was in the police reports. I want something to explain what I remember. I do not enjoy reliving it."

Julio mumbled, "You could probably ask Iris the psych student about that."

Barry held up another finger. "Two, This will probably be a defining event in my life, losing a year like that. Is it really that surprising that I want to know more about what happened?"

That was a white lie; Barry had another motivation. While the doctors' tests were thorough, they weren't looking for reasons why his perception had sped up, so if something were there they might not find it. That concern had driven Barry to ask the doctors not only for copies of the pretty test summaries that they usually handed out to patients but also for the more detailed write ups that contained messes of medical jargon and the slew of minor or irrelevant results and statistics also returned by the test.

Because he was trained in forensics and not medicine, there were plenty of concepts and figures of which Barry could not make heads or tails. Fortunately though, the two fields were closely enough related that he could understand most of it.

Therefore, he could realize that they weren't that helpful. Barry saw a potential connection between his increased heart rate and his perception: his body thought time was going more slowly on every level. But that hypothesis still didn't explain what put him out of pace with the world, and it didn't even do much to narrow it down.

Because the heart rate is controlled by both the endocrine and the nervous system, he had to consider both as options, though he had his bets on the nervous system. The brain does the majority of the work in processing the world around a person. Furthermore, the hormones involved in the endocrine system typically help provide the appropriate reaction to a stimulus once it has been gathered. They would not make sure the stimuli come in faster. Even when it seems that time slows down during an adrenaline rush, studies have shown that people under such conditions do not actually receive information quicker. However, Barry had tracked down a timer online which one could set to go just fast enough that he shouldn't be able to read it. Should, here, being the operative word.

The tests regarding his hunger had quickly diverted the doctors' attention away from the nervous system. A blood sample taken right before and after one of his meals had shown that the glucose levels were indeed at the expected levels when he claimed to be hungry and full, so it wasn't just a trick of his brain. But, while the brain does require a significant portion of the body's energy anyway the doctors did not suspect that it was the problem's cause. They had confirmed this with a more thorough blood sampling, which varied the sampling locations and repeated the sample shortly after. Barry didn't know all the formulas behind this, but with the right difference in time between samples, they could ensure that the missing glucose had indeed been metabolized in that region of his body. Indeed, location did not seem to have much of an effect on how the glucose levels dropped.

Hence, though Barry could imagine an fMRI scan aiding the doctors in seeing which areas of his brain were requiring more energy by measuring the blood flow, and one would be helpful in figuring out his perception, the doctors never requested one.

In the meantime there were charts of oxygenation levels, probes of his digestive track to see how it was handling the extra food, and lists of trace chemicals in his blood, among other data sets. This last piece of information really interested him; Barry guessed that the chemicals and not the lightning had caused his problem.

But none of those chemicals had alerted the doctors. At no point did they turn to him and ask "Does the world look like it's moving at an abnormal pace to you?" As such Barry needed to figure things out himself, not only by understanding the chemicals themselves but also understanding the processes that created them. Thus, he needed the chemicals which had originally gotten into his system as a cross reference.

Barry blinked, hoping that Julio wouldn't look into his question too much. His situation wasn't so bad that he wanted his friend to worry, and his claim about genuine curiosity was not a complete lie.

However, Julio finally relented and started listing what he could remember. He promised to get back to Barry with a full list later. He had had to file an accident report after finding Barry, which he was pretty sure included the chemicals involved, and tracking down a copy of that report wouldn't be too hard. Julio swore that the department was such a stickler about paperwork that they probably had copies of things going decades back.

"Oh, that reminds me," Julio added. Barry raised an eyebrow. "You know that board you had of unexplained cases, particularly your mother's?" Barry perked up. In the rush of the past few days, he had completely forgotten about that thing, but it was important to him. A good portion of his life revolved around collecting the information he had posted there. "Well, I'm continuing to use the same lab. It's just that after my promotion I no longer have a more experienced CSI telling me what to do. Somebody else moved into your half of the room, though, so your stuff is in a box under my desk"

"Thanks"

**A/N**: We're almost there. We've at least had our first experience with super speed. Too bad Barry isn't ready to believe he has it, though at least he is willing to admit it exists.

How Barry sees the world at super speed is my own innovation. Barry needs to be able to react at super speed if being a speedster would do any good. But, something didn't quite sit right with me about just having everything slow down. Then the fact of human biology hit me, and I realized that I didn't need to compromise. As I worked with the idea, it made more and more sense.

Moreover, the idea of having to pick up a lot of falling food came from Flash's origin issue, Showcase #4. There he didn't have it nearly so easy. His coffee was already spilling out of his mug, so he would have had to move the cup around to pick up all the splashes of coffee.


	7. Chapter 6: Running

Here, I am again, and I'm actually a bit early. However, I have been extremely busy these past two weeks, and thus I haven't had a chance to start writing the next few chapters, though I know what will happen in them. Therefore, it will be a little bit longer than usual before I can start posting chapters again. However, this is hopefully a suitably big one to keep you guys satisfied for a while. This chapter was also beta'd by my friend willowoak_walker.

**Chapter 6: Running**

Barry paced in his room.

He had never considered himself much of a pacer before. In fact, when something had bothered him, he typically would have stood still and stared at a speck on the wall, working through the problem in his head. Yet for some reason, as soon as his legs could support his weight, he found that walking calmed his nerves. Perhaps he was just glad to be able to do it again. Perhaps it was something else. With all the other mysteries in his life, he didn't feel like lingering on this one.

Not when those other mysteries had added to his nerves to begin with.

Test after test had come back with negative, inconclusive, or just strange results, when it came to his metabolism, so the doctors had no idea what do with him. They had even stopped being able to think up new tests to put him through. After a week of two or more new tests a day and the procedures having lost recognizability, Barry knew that was saying something. Moreover, Barry was displaying no serious issues other than the increased metabolism, which alone wasn't going to threaten his health. As such the doctors couldn't prescribe any procedures that were too invasive. Dr. Engels was also finding less and less reason to keep him in the hospital; the doctor had approved Barry's release in two days, when the final tests came back.

Unfortunately, until then Dr. Engels wanted Barry strictly inside the building. Barry could understand the logic. Metabolism is one of the basic features of an organism, and while there was some leeway in how far it could vary, Barry's had overshot that limit by far. Whatever was causing Barry's problem had messed with the fundamental machinery of his body. No one would be surprised if there wasn't another, deadly symptom lurking in the background. If this symptom suddenly manifested, Barry would be safer in the hospital, where he would receive care right away.

Barry was tempted at this point to tell Dr. Engels about how the world seemed to be moving slower than usual. It indicated another drastic and fundamental physiological change, so perhaps it would satisfy the doctors even though it wasn't going to kill him. But then there would probably be more tests added to Barry's bill and time. Barry cringed. He could easily imagine those tests becoming far more invasive than fifty different ways to take and measure blood or his diet with a few injections added in. Brain imaging, the unobtrusive option, might be able to tell the doctors where the problem was, but it wouldn't tell them what was happening there.

Barry cringed, imaging the doctors having to go straight to the source of the problem. That wouldn't be pleasant.

Worse, if the two problems were unrelated or if those tests also proved inconclusive, he might never leave the building. At first, Barry would have dismissed such an attitude as reckless; for all he knew there could be a serious problem. But, with doctors hovering over him twenty four hours a week, finding nearly every test result up to par or at least not dangerous, and praising him on his excellent recovery otherwise, Barry had long since started doubting that such a serious condition existed. Continuing to hole himself up in the hospital's sanitized white hallways and rooms would just be paranoid.

Of course, the fact that he had a serious case of cabin fever didn't have anything to do with these thoughts. Not at all.

He did another lap from one end of the room to the other.

While Barry was glad that he no longer had to deal with his roommate's disapproving and disgusted comments, the absence of what would have probably been a sideways sneer also made things worse. His roommate's friends had had to assist the man out of the room, but at least the man had been allowed to leave.

He glared at the now empty bed before returning to his room's door and glancing into the hallway.

Barry had already attempted to sneak out twice yesterday, casually wandering the halls like he was supposed to be there, slowly making his way towards the exit. Unfortunately, while he now had is normal clothes back, he still had one of those annoying paper bracelets that were impossible to undo without scissors around his wrist. The amount of time before somebody noticed and asked to see it varied, but it happened both times. And then, inevitably, they would turn him around and send him back to his room.

Perhaps, he should simply try to wait patiently. He could watch the TV, play one of those obnoxious Facebook games, or read one of the novels Iris had left him. Again.

He sighed. The luxury of boredom was so much sweeter when one was actually being relieved from a workload. Then one actually had a reason to delight in not being productive, in lounging around doing nothing. It was a statement that one could do so, and it actually meant something. Now, not so much. He furrowed his eyebrows together. He hadn't even enjoyed those times as much as most, preferring to spend his time on his own projects. Once he had a lab to share with Julio that had been mainly working on unexplained cases including his mother's, though he also had other hobbies he considered fun, no matter what Julio said.

At the moment there didn't appear to be too many people in the hall. Perhaps, he should simply change tactics and make a run for it. It wasn't like sneaking out would work again. Not only had the first two times taught him a lesson, but he also swore he had heard a nurse telling other staff to watch out for him.

Barry wandered back into the room, leaving the door open. He fiddled with the books that lay on the table beside his bed. They had been enjoyable reads. Too bad with the world moving so slowly, his reading speed had picked up, and all of them were now checked off his "to read" list. While he did occasionally reread books, and these were certainly worth it, it was a little too early for that. Barry glanced into the hall.

His fingers tapped his laptop. He had fallen behind on his TV shows while he was out, and the week hadn't given him enough time to catch up. The biggest note on that end was Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D. What he had seen of the show up until his blackout was pretty slow, but he'd heard that it had improved since then and that the finale was epic. Shhh, no spoilers.

He grimaced.

As much as that sounded like a good idea, he couldn't bring himself to sit down and watch the show. He'd been sitting down all the time for the first quarter of the week, and for the next half week he'd barely been able to get out of the bed because his legs were still so shaky. He had all this pent up energy. The idea of laying down and just looking at something rubbed him the wrong way.

The hallway beckoned, and Barry glared at the door. It just wouldn't leave him be, would it. He turned the idea over in his head several timed and finally relented, shrugging. It wasn't like he could do anything else.

Barry wandered into the hallway and started walking away from the cluster of desks where most of the nurses hovered. He looked over his shoulder repeatedly; this time he had no pretensions about not being suspicious. On the first two glances, no one seemed to notice his departure. The third glance, however, revealed one of the orderlies moving in his direction. Shit. It was the one who had caught him the first time, so she knew what he was doing.

Barry decided to bolt.

His brain, panicking, sent messages everywhere asking for more speed, and the sliver responded, opening the floodgates to the speed force. Energy rushed in, and the air cackled. Then, before a millisecond passed, the sliver began to direct the energy into Barry's cells, pulling the instructions out of the semi-mystical energy itself. Applied carefully, the speed force could ensure that the muscle fibers twitched faster and the mitochondria would produce more ATP, the energy molecule, to help fuel the muscle's movements. Fortunately, this was nothing new; the sliver had done this processing the latent speed force that leaked into this dimension. Scale provided the only difference now, and that's discounting all the practice it had before being thrown back in time.

The sliver also had to know where to direct the speed force energy. Obviously, a good portion of this energy went to Barry's legs, as those were the things his brain wanted to quickly move. However, in order to accomplish this without killing or even injuring Barry, the sliver had to distribute the energy elsewhere as well. It gave a jolt to the heart, so the muscles could receive the nutrients such as sugar and oxygen that they would burn through. A shot to the diaphragm and lungs would ensure that the blood remained oxygenated. Energy sparked through Barry's nervous system. The speed force worked on a molecular level to ensure it didn't tear Barry apart, but all that would go to squat if the organ that was supposed to be coordinating his movement couldn't keep up.

All this occurred within a few milliseconds. In the next fraction of a second, Barry had traversed most of the distance down the hall. A gust of wind and a few sparks trailed behind him.

The orderly blinked. She could have sworn she had seen the stubborn patient from room F56 out in the hall, which for him probably meant another "escape attempt," but then there was only a draft. She shook her head. Her job entailed more than just trying to keep a man who couldn't stay still under observation, and those other duties currently required her attention. She made a mental note to check his room later. God, some parts of her job were annoying.

Meanwhile, Barry experienced things quite differently. At first, things seemed to get even slower. The chatter that permeated the building drew out. The feet of the doctors and patients milling around the hallway took longer to reach the ground. It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the incident in the cafeteria, but it wasn't nearly as focused either.

Barry, however, did not have much time to appreciate these affects, even with the world slowing down; he was starting to run. Velocity, for one, is relative, and with regards to how Barry sees the world one needs to consider an object's velocity with respect to Barry's position.

Hence, while expanding that first mili-moment by a second would have allowed him to analyze every detail of the scene, suddenly everything blurred. Even enhanced by the speed force, his brain simply wasn't fast enough to pick out everything when between glances the object's relative position had changed by fifty feet. Then, again his brain didn't need all the details. He wasn't disarming a nuclear bomb, trying to calm a panicking crowd, or anything else that extreme. He was just trying to quickly navigate his way out of the hospital. Failing to notice someone's glaring Hawaiian T-shirt or the exact expression on their face was not going to be the end of the world. The brain only asked for as much speed force as it needed, so those things did not register.

Thus, Barry's eyes scanned for the general shape of the hallway, and where people, carts, and other obstacles might be. He might catch the general color of somebody's shirt or a splotch of color where a poster hung, but for the most part the objects were just there.

Most of this was out of Barry's control. His body just knew how to do it, and so it did. What it didn't know it could read from the speed force. The necessary actions were so complex, so delicate, so quick, that it couldn't happen any other way. Stepping down even slightly wrong would cause him to lose balance. Skipping a breath would deplete his blood of oxygen. Choosing to focus intensely on one object meant he might not have time to dodge the next. As Barry got more experience running, he would learn how to safely override these features, but at this point they were behind a steel wall.

In fact, he could feel most of his brain power turn towards these tasks, but he didn't question it. He was too busy focusing on getting the hell out of there to care, and instinctively he knew it was helping that end. Moreover, questioning it too hard would require some of the exact brain power he didn't have access to at the moment. He'd worry about it later.

None of this is to say, though, that he had no control, just that he didn't have much. He could, for example, nudge his brain to prioritize certain details if it happened to come across them. Considering that he still did not have the hospital's layout memorized, this involved looking for signs pointing towards the exits or at least somewhere he thought would be close to one. Those signs or hints of those signs popped out as he raced through the halls. Seeing useful information, Barry could act on it, telling his body which direction to turn, though, with so much direct action outside of his control, it really was telling and not just doing. He couldn't even control his turning radius. Several times he found himself running dangerously close to and, if his imagination wasn't running wild, occasionally part way up the walls.

Eventually, or rather soon depending on how you measured time, he saw the hospital's front desk and the large clear set of doors in front of it. Well, that wasn't exactly what he saw. There was a large flat object that went to somewhat above waist height. Behind said object was a person talking to a group of various sized people, perhaps a family, on the other side.

The wall in front of him wasn't the usual monochrome. The differences in color weren't even the bland rectangles of color indicative of a poster or the larger blocks of bright green or blue indicative of a window. Instead Barry noticed a large swath the color of asphalt across the bottom of the wall in front of him with additional patches in the corners. The rest was filled with the unnaturally bright green of carefully cared for grass. In the middle of this was the blue shape of a car. Several thin black lines separated the image, and most tellingly one of the panels was open with a person walking through. So, while the image Barry saw wasn't exactly a front desk and main entrance, he didn't need to guess twice to know that was what he was coming up to.

Fortunately, Barry reached the door before it closed, though that wasn't very hard. It was, however, helpful because he didn't have to stop and fiddle with a door handle before continuing outside. He just ran, grabbing the closing door and pushing it open, so he could put some distance between himself and the hateful building.

Barry ran straight down the street. The cars weren't moving that quickly, at least from his perspective, and there wasn't much space on the sidewalk. It was filled with so many people who were practically standing still. Barry just didn't want to weave through the sporadically-placed foot traffic, not when turning was so damn hard, and the space between cars naturally provided more space within which to maneuver.

The hospital had the traditional additions of greenery to make it seem friendlier, so Barry at least blinked when confronted with the clogged sidewalks and roadways. He already knew that the hospital was in the middle of the city, but he'd only caught glimpses of leaves and other wings of the hospital during his stay.

Furthermore, on some level, he also knew that the cars and pedestrians were moving at a normal pace. His brain stored away how much speed force it was consuming and how fast the objects were supposed to be moving in some remote corner to which he didn't pay attention.

Several blocks down the street from the main entrance, Barry finally decided he was far enough away and pulled over to the sidewalk. Somehow he managed to slow down as quickly as he had managed to accelerate. It felt like the speed was getting sucked out of him; the metaphorical bad taste settled in his mouth, protesting the change in pace. However, a different feeling overpowered the taste; his brain and body buzzed from the run, reveling in the speeds achieved and the energies consumed.

Now that Barry had slowed down, he could realize how odd that experience was. He was no longer in the mental state that made everything seem halfway normal.

The first thing he noticed was that suddenly everything sped up again. Not to their pre-coma levels, but at least to the way they had been before he took off down the hall. It was like that incident in the cafeteria, which until a moment ago he denied even happened. Now, he wasn't sure if he had been too quick to reject it. It was just that despite what happened at his mother's murder, he still wasn't used to things that weird happening to _him_. Then, again, with his metabolism and usual perception off the charts, he really shouldn't be all that surprised. Perhaps this was the dangerous side affect the doctors were looking for.

His lips pressed together to form a thin line. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to deal with that. Oh, well.

Barry glanced around trying to get his bearings, and then noticed that he didn't recognize this part of town. That in and of itself wasn't shocking; he didn't go to the hospital very often. More concerning was the fact that he currently didn't even have the hospital as a reference point. He had wanted to get away from the building, not lost.

His memory of the run scratched at the back of his mind. He nervously looked farther in the direction from which he had just come.

Several blocks down the street the tall rectangular blocks that formed buildings parted, showing some large trees, which otherwise seemed out of place in the middle of the city. A portion of the road bent towards the trees instead of jutting out like a usual intersection. Barry couldn't read the sign at this distance, but instead of having the individual shops or building labeled, the whole entire area was marked off separately. It was a complex. It was the hospital.

Barry narrowed his eyes and glared at the distance. He didn't feel like he had crossed that distance, let alone ran it. He would have expected to be out of breath or at least breathing more heavily than normal. He would have expected his muscles to have complained about the sudden intensive use. His heart would be racing and still pounding in his ears. But it wasn't. He breathed at his normal rate. His muscles hadn't minded the exercise at all. Barry felt just like he would have after a brisk walk. Better even.

However, Barry couldn't deny the distance between himself and the medical complex. Thinking back, he could even remember crossing those intersections, in the middle of the street no less.

He rolled his lips in confusion. The blocks had gone by so fast, and things had seemed slower than normal, his normal. Not that much time could have passed.

Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes shot open, and he took a step back.

Shit.

There was another time when he had found himself moved blocks in the blink of an eye. The world had blurred then too, but that time there had been no details popping out. That time, he couldn't even make out the general shapes of people and buildings as they had flown past him. He couldn't brush off the lack of detail due to how much time had passed; he still remembered the events before and after his sudden transportation vividly. He remembered less time passing during that first instance, but considering how funky his perception was acting, he couldn't really say if there was any difference.

However, during the first memory of sudden displacement, he was on the other side of things, being dragged away from his house and his dying mother by an unknown force. He hadn't been the one in control that time. He hadn't been the one running.

Without even thinking, Barry turned in the opposite direction and started walking. No. He didn't want to deal with this right now. He didn't want a good guess at how his mother's murderer had seen the world. If only he could forget this and think about something else.

But he couldn't.

For, one it wasn't a thought that one could just drop, and what would you think about after that? Trying too hard to change one's train of thought typically leaves the reason for the change as an afterthought, so it wouldn't really go away. He didn't even have anything proper with which to distract himself. All of his stuff was in his room and everything around him reminded him of the distance he had crossed to get here.

Barry was also planning to eventually go back to the hospital, and he should figure this out as much as he could before he went there. Should he tell the doctors? He'd been keeping a lot of things from them, but those seemed so much smaller in comparison, so much less important.

What was this, even? After seeing a comic book character do that, one goes "they have super speed" and assume one knows everything and move on, but real life is so much more complicated. There are rules, like physics, that can't just be brushed aside. Barry would be the first to admit that humans did not have a complete understanding of what those rules are, but that mystery just excites further investigation. He didn't just brush it aside and move on as he did so often in reading the origin story for the latest superhero. The characters inhabiting those worlds have probably become so desensitized to strangeness that they have stopped questioning it, and in consuming a comic or other superhero story, people know to expect physics to stop working and thus rarely question anything that defies physical rules. It is a superpower, time to move on. But Barry couldn't stand to apply those assumptions and that blindness to his own life.

Furthermore, in a comic book, one can assume more because the writers are setting the character up to fulfill some role in the plot. Anything that looks like a superpower probably is, and the character has some hope of getting control of the situation. Only in a few cases, such as Bruce Banner's, could one bet against a character mastering their abilities or at least finding a way to work around them. One can also typically assume that the abilities are safe, that the character wasn't inching towards death every time they used the powers. Superpowers fulfill a story purpose: to allow the characters to perform great feats to either endanger or protect the public. The powers typically cannot further those goals without these basic assumptions.

Exceptions to these rules exist, but those were rarer cases, and Barry couldn't remember super speed ever being used like that. Barry wished that he could assign his newfound ability some greater purpose like that, so he could make those assumptions and move on. Unfortunately, he did not believe somebody was sitting down to write his life as a comic book. Barry also didn't believe that god would intervene so directly in anyone's life, including his, so his abilities lacked both literary and divine purposes. They were merely an accident and just as unpredictable.

In any case, Barry worried that he might not get a choice in whether he found his perception suddenly shifting and body rushing with energy. His mind raced providing possible problems and dangers that could result from what just happened. This wasn't because he was naturally pessimistic, but while humanity's impulse to fear the unknown has caused numerous stupid decisions, the basic premise, what you don't know _can_ hurt you, helps ensure survival.

For one, who knew whether the ability had any dangerous side effects? If it was caused by the chemicals he had absorbed, nothing in nature stated that the byproducts of such reactions needed to be healthy. Hell, Barry wondered if his body could even really keep up with the movement, chemically and physically. Though his hunger did not jump as much as he would have expected, it did seem a little closer than beforehand, so his body had been able to process sugar correctly. But that still left questions of whether there were issues with the other nutrients his body would need. Perhaps his body had depleted its stores of some vital vitamin or mineral. Perhaps, in the rush it wasn't used correctly, leaving his body weaker than usual.

Moreover, just because his body had managed to keep up in one regard did not mean it did not over exert itself in doing so. His muscles could have minuscule tears, or his bones could have small breaks. He'd heard Rudy, Iris's older brother, complain about injuries enough from college football. Rudy had been in better shape then than Barry is now, and he hadn't been sprinting several blocks in seconds. Barry had to have injuries somewhere.

Intuitively, one might expect Barry to avoid speeding all together, after coming up with all these frightening scenarios. Yet, if he could just figure out how to initialize it, he would be able to test these hypotheses and discover for certain. If nothing came up, imagine all the uses to which he could put super speed. If any problems did occur, however, knowing how to turn the ability on would give Barry some idea of how to keep it off.

On the flip side, Barry could also imagine how much trouble super speed would cause if he couldn't get it under control. He pictured himself trying to hold a conversation when suddenly the other person's mouth moving slower and slower until he couldn't understand what they were saying. While his body _may_ be able to handle the speeds, some objects didn't react well to sudden changes in velocity; note now the number of glass beakers and flasks at his workplace. He worried about being in a rush then suddenly overshooting his destination. While he had certainly wanted to get away from the hospital, he hadn't planned to nearly put it out of sight.

Furthermore, even if all of that was just paranoia, people would freak out after blatant and uncontrolled bursts of super speed. Hell, he was freaking out, and not only did he experience it personally, but he was also probably the one person who believed that super speed existed beforehand. Perhaps, if he knew what was happening and could at least fake command of the ability/affliction, other people would calm down. Perhaps, if it were not so dramatic, they wouldn't notice or at least wouldn't care. Alas, neither of these scenarios were the case.

Fortunately, both of the incidents had happened when he had wanted to move fast, and his mother's murderer had seemed to have some control. These signs boded well for him, but he still had no idea how or even if he could activate it consciously.

Barry mentally groaned. He really didn't like who his only outside reference for this was.

However, grumbling about it wouldn't do anything. Testing things out would. Glancing around, Barry decided that he didn't want to try running down a busy sidewalk, especially as quickly as he was intending. Also, even if no one knew what he was trying to do or even noticed him, Barry would feel slightly embarrassed if he tried to run at super speed and failed. Some small action would be appropriate. Barry stopped and waved his hand in front of his face, willing it to go fast.

Nope. Nada. Nothing.

One typically can't get a clear view of one's hand when waving it in front of one's face anyways. But, Barry's mind on some level knew it should have received the slight buzz from the ability's use. Barry's muscles knew that they should have received a burst of energy. Barry's eyes knew that they should have been able to process the hand's movement. None of this knowledge was conscious, but it was there.

Barry sighed.

Trying to trigger the speed did not have the same urgency that the other two situations, so, now that he thought about it, he wasn't entirely surprised that he had failed to activate it. He seemed to subconsciously be able to do it; everything seemed so easy once he was in the zone. In an emergency, the mind can search through the subconscious for solutions even if one couldn't find it otherwise. But Barry didn't notice blatant super speed otherwise, and though his stay at the hospital has not been the most dangerous time of his life, the two incidents were not the only stressful times in his stay. He had many times during physical therapy when he had suddenly lost balance and wanted to quickly correct himself in order to regain it. Each time he had found himself sprawled on the therapist's blue mat instead. It couldn't be easy for his subconscious, let alone his conscious, mind to find.

Difficult does not mean impossible, so he couldn't give up just yet, especially now that he knew the key: finding the right neural connections to manifest it. These connections might appear as a mindset, feeling, thought, or something else, but Barry had the idea that he'd recognize them once he found them. He'd at least wait until he returned to the hospital, before declaring defeat.

However, the urgency of the few moments when he had sped up meant he had been distracted. So, he had no hints as to where to begin his conscious search. While he could easily concoct an emergency, most of those involved putting himself in physical danger and hoping that the abilities kicked in. Think suddenly running out into the middle of the street. Not a good idea and certainly not something he wanted to do. On the other hand, he could try some mental stress because both of the previous incidents of super speed needed sudden action but did not invoke danger. Unfortunately, he knew before he started that any such stress created simply for the activation of the abilities would feel fake and therefore fail.

His shoulders visibly dropped, and his back knotted in frustration. It would have been really nice to have that question answered. Alas. He might as well move on to the next question bothering him.

Again, Barry's feet didn't ask him before thy started moving him down the street with the flow of foot traffic. This led him farther away from the hospital.

If he did gain some mastery of this ability, who would he tell? The obvious answer was at least the doctors and his loved ones. He could do the tests on his own, and he had enough experience in with human biology outside of forensic science that he stood a chance at understanding the results. However, just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.

Even people who go to medical school often require the use of a specialist when dealing with unexpected and confusing data. Considering super speed was still in the unbelievable category, a lot of the data surrounding it will probably be nearly incomprehensible, and Barry had studied forensics, and not any field of medicine. Therefore, he would probably have to do intensive research to parse the data with confidence, and intensive research takes time during which a dangerous side effect could make itself known.

Moreover, he would probably end up using his lab at work to run the experiments, if his boss didn't decide to demote him to paperwork duty because of his absences. Those labs are great and had nearly everything he needed to do his job, even in the oddest circumstances. It's just that his job involves analyzing the circumstances surrounding a death, not detecting obscure medical conditions.

Barry thought back to the panic he felt when Felicity had asked him to look into the health of a live body, particularly the body of Oliver Queen. The fact that a life was actually on the line certainly increased the pressure, but a number of other differences in experience had also raised his blood pressure that day.

First, when dealing with a dead body, it's already dead. One certainly had to worry about decomposition before it arrived at the lab, and once it did arrive, sterile environments only did so much. Yet, beyond that one didn't have to worry about the evidence up and leaving. The deadline imposed on the examination stemmed from the want to catch the murderer, if one existed (not all dead bodies that passed through his labs were homicide victims, despite what CSI would have you believe). One didn't have to worry about a condition passing through stages as one worked and thus throwing off your evidence. One didn't have to worry about somebody dying because you didn't move quickly enough. As such, not only was he not used to this new pressure, but the equipment in his lab stressed accuracy, not efficiency in providing results.

Second there are a number of tests that one can do on a dead body but not a live one and vice versa. Autopsies provide a great example of this. At the police department, it took very little time to request an autopsy and receive the results, which because one literally cut straight to the area of question could answer any number of questions. Of course this is only the most extreme example. Barry knew that a multitude of the tests he regularly performed would pose serious risks to live patients because they disregarded the health of the tissue surrounding the procedure, as in Barry's work the health of the patient is a non-issue. Barry had had to think on the spot to revise his normal procedure as he had raced around Oliver Queen's body, trying to narrow down the possible causes of his condition. He would have to perform such mental leaps again when investigating his own abilities.

This, however, works the other way. There is certain information you can get off a living person better than you can off a dead one. Blood pressure is far more meaningful, when one's heart is actually beating. Different types of brain imaging work in different ways, such as measuring blood flow or the changing electro-magnetic fields, but all of them require the brain to be functioning. Barry knew a decent amount about how living bodies function; it was part of his job to deduce what had happened during the last moments of a person's life. But his lab didn't specialize in obtaining such information directly, and he certainly didn't specialize in interpreting it.

To sum those thoughts up, when one has an unknown affliction with dramatic symptoms, one should probably leave things to the experts, even if one is trained in a related field.

Barry narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. He still wasn't totally convinced.

On the other hand, if he told the doctors, would his life ever get back to normal again? They'd poked and prodded him for a whole week simply because he managed to eat a lot after waking up. Imagine what they would do with this. Admittedly the use of the word "simply" was a bit of an exaggeration; the doctors still did not know where the calories were going or why he was burning them.

But, in comparison to super speed, a heightened metabolism is tame. If he told somebody how much he ate, they would be worried about his physical health but would just assume he had some rare medical condition. Barry already knew what happened if you told people you believe super speed can exist, let alone that you had it. People worried for your mental health. They rolled their eyes or stared at you blankly. One person had even put their hand on his forehead checking to see if he had a fever. A number of people never looked at him the same way again. Most of the people who managed to move past it, such as Julio Mendez at work and Cisco Ramon from college, did so by ignoring his claim or pretending he hadn't made it.

Now, if Barry managed to super speed at will, he wouldn't worry about getting the doctors to believe him, but the inherent disbelief at the situation highlighted that they wouldn't exactly react well or calmly.

Before Barry could continue with his head lost in the clouds, he reached the end of the current block. He walked partway into the intersection, but years of being told not to wander into busy streets kicked in and, even engrossed in his thoughts, he paused before going too far. The crowds were not moving with him. Fortunately, the sudden dissonance pulled his head half-way down from the clouds.

That was enough for him to notice that he already had two feet into the intersection, and there wasn't exactly a walk signal. In fact, there were still cars coming. He jumped back. One whistled right in front of his nose.

He felt a spark in his mind. It wasn't the flood of energy from his cafeteria and running experience. But, it had the same feeling of a sharp inhale then holding one's breath until he finished moving back and the car was gone. Then the feeling dissipated. Meanwhile, Barry noticed a slight bounce downward in his perception as the car passed. The car should have appeared to go faster and have fewer details as it moved passed him, but it didn't.

That was it! Barry could have sworn that he felt something like the spark the other two times he had speeded. It might not be enough to find the portion of his brain that controlled the ability, but it was a start.

Barry rushed to hold onto the feeling and bring it back while the memory was still fresh in his mind, but it was quickly fading, leaving only an echo. It was a small tinge to his thoughts, not even enough to distort the world around him. Worse, while he could focus on it and accept it enough to keep it there, at this intensity, it was too subtle for him to push his mind towards it. It was like playing a game of hot and cold with a friend, but you only had one clue, "lukewarm". Not very helpful.

Barry sighed. For the second time that week, his hopes were both raised and dashed; being able to hold echo in his mind reinforced the idea that perhaps he could consciously activate it, but the hollowness of the echo emphasized just how hard tracking down a feeling can be. The last traces of the spark disappeared.

Just as he was stepping back from the curb, he realized that while the spark was exciting and unfamiliar, he firmly recognized its retreat. He experienced that every time he got into the zone in order to talk with people, especially family members such as Iris.

When he talked to people, his perception did not change. The activity was meditative precisely because he had to wait patiently for the other person to finish their words at a pace which, if Barry didn't know any better, seemed painfully slow.

Yet the connection wasn't surprising. Every time he did it, he remembered how to go slow. He remembered the speed at which his mouth had to pronounce the syllables in order for it to sound natural. He could almost feel his thoughts slowing down, as he had to hold all the words in his head for an eternity. In essence, it was the exact opposite of the rush he had felt running through the halls. Furthermore, he had already deduced that the general sluggishness of the world was caused by him going too fast; linking his current experience with that was not too big of a leap.

At the same time, that meant that whatever had caused the super speed had been with him nearly the whole time since he had woken up. It was only in those first moments after opening his eyes did he remember hearing anybody talk at what could be considered a normal pace. Even so, it could have even been at work then, though at a lesser degree; he'd been so out of it and focused on the hunger that he might not have noticed if there had been a dip in his perception. Moreover, throughout the week Barry could have sworn that the world's speed had continued to decrease, though admittedly each day the difference was less. Extrapolating backwards, he could easily predict that it had had some presence during those first hours.

Again, Barry would have been amazed if the super speed's cause had come out of nowhere or if it had come in the previous week. While the doctors had subjected him to a number of strange tests in attempts to relieve their confusion, even the tests that were cutting edge weren't brand new. He highly doubted they caused _this_.

But its continued presence also felt a tad intrusive.

He'd spent most of his life searching out the strange and unexplainable, and in fact this particular aspect of the weird, because he wanted to show that it existed and could be understood. That he hadn't been crazy in imagining his mother's murderer. That the mystery of who that person was and also how and why they pulled off the attack would not always be a mystery. He had not scoured the inter-departmental police network for hints of the odd and especially supposedly superhuman phenomena because he wanted such a phenomenon to permeate every waking hour of his existence. Especially not if it was especially well suited at reminding him of the murder he was trying to explain.

He grimaced. The people moving around him took each step leisurely despite the rushed looks on their faces. The heavy traffic rolled through the streets so someone could run or at least bicycle beside them. Seconds filled the space between the beeps from the crosswalk, which he remembered as being previously incessant and urgent. He knew none of that was real, and yet that is how he saw the world.

Barry wanted to glare at everything. If it would do any good, he would yell at the world and tell it to speed up or at himself to slow down. Barry grit his teeth together. He had heard of people wanting to flip tables; he wanted to flip a banquet hall. Yet, Barry knew that he couldn't grumble forever, especially when he had such a good hint.

Before passing away, his mother had reminded him that one should focus on the things one can change instead of wallowing in the things one couldn't. A particular memory came to mind of when the car had shut down outside of town and he had grown frustrated as car after car passed by. His mother, however, remained calm and patient knowing she couldn't control their actions. Instead of kicking at the dirt or cursing the cars, she carefully searched through the materials strewn across the backseat for water and snacks in case it would be a long wait, before letting Barry run ahead (within her line of sight of course) to see if there was anything useful down the road. Turns out there had been a gas station not too far away, and the manager helped them restart the car.

Even after his mother's death the lesson remained. The suddenness of her loss, the mysteries surrounding it, and the disbelief most adults had regarding his perspective all stung too much. If he had continually focused on those aspects, he would have never healed and returned to a normal life. Those events continued to influence the important decisions in his life, but he never let them be the only factor involved. He had to have something to which he could look forward and cherish, for the chance that he never made progress on those other fronts. Each case he took up had to be important and interesting in its own right and not just a stepping stone towards unraveling his mother's murder.

It was a good thing, then, that he found the scientific process enjoyable and the human body fascinating in how each of the pieces interacted. He loved trying to understand what happened at a crime scene; it provided a complex and challenging puzzle, and, even better, he helped the world in a tangible way by solving it.

Similarly, while he might dislike what certain results implied, they were what he had to work with, so he should use them to his advantage. Right now, it meant figuring out how to control the ability, so that he could understand it and any dangers it might pose and, if the dangers proved strong enough, consciously choose not to use it.

Barry slipped through the crowd to lean against the building. Again, he was going to start with something small before figuring out how to run, but this time he didn't trust his feet to stay still. Not after that.

He closed his eyes and blocked out the sounds from the busy street. He needed to focus.

First, he closed his eyes. He got into the zone that he did when he talked to people, slowly mouthing the words to a song in order to pace himself. He pushed himself slower and slower; he went past looking normal. Perhaps he now appeared to others how they appeared to him. His thoughts ground to a halt. He breathed in and out. It wasn't comfortable by far, some part of his mind kept on protesting with every mental step in that direction. Yet it was in some way contenting, having to think only a thought during each moment. He hadn't realized how rushed his thoughts had been.

But he wasn't doing this to relax. He was doing this to find out how to activate the ability, so he suddenly switched directions. His thoughts rushed back up. He realized that it felt like he had been pushing something out; that was why it took so much effort to stay in the zone for long periods of time.

He continued to let himself unwind out of the zone, and whatever it was kept rushing in. As he went back to normal, he mentally followed how his mental state was changing and continued in that direction.

The feeling from before charged in, this time more powerfully than when the car had barreled right in front of him. It felt like energy dancing in his skull. He couldn't help but smile; why did it feel so damn good? Barry knew he should be more skeptical about it. Just because it felt pleasant didn't mean it wasn't going to kill him. The brain could play tricks on you. Despite his rational mind's protest, Barry felt some of his worries dissipate. The energy itself seemed to be trying to calm and sooth him. Plus, now that it was so close and not just a memory, it didn't feel foreign. It felt like it belonged there, like it was a part of him.

It felt good, but it didn't feel content. It wanted to move. It wanted him to move.

Barry opened his eyes. The world indeed was moving slower than it had been when he closed its eyes. Not as much as he would have expected, but enough that he definitely wouldn't want to live like this.

He moved his hand in front of his face again, focusing on going fast. He could feel the energy race down his arm, and in a mili-instant it had gone from one side of his face to the other. But, unlike when he normally moved his hand like that, everything remained crystal clear. Not that he ever lost track of his hand before, but now instead of details disappearing they popped out. And, as in the cafeteria, while his hand seemed to be going slow enough for him to see, and the people around him continued moving, he instinctively knew that his hand had gone much faster.

Barry blinked. He moved his hand again. It happened again. Barry pulled the feeling even closer. Things slowed another notch. Or three.

As he tried the experiment again, passing his hand back and forth in front of his face, he could feel an increase in speed. More energy raced down his arms. The air pushed harder at his fingertips. The details popped more against a background of supposed blur. The disjoint between his perception of his hand and his perception of the moving cars and pedestrians around him increased.

Glancing around, he noticed a number of more subtle discontinuities all around him. Rifts forming as the cars and pedestrians came closer then moved away. Perceptive breaks between the cars and the people and then between the people and the stationary world of buildings, signposts, and store displays around them. Differences between the rushed business people, who clipped along in their grey and black suits with their eyes focused intently ahead, and the leisurely shoppers, who dressed in the season's bright colors glancing interestedly at the people and even more so the objects all around them.

These breaks in his perception were tiny, minuscule even. He wouldn't have noticed them at all, if he hadn't been looking for them. He could barely see them even now, but they were definitely there.

Moreover, they seemed to follow his focus, happening only when he paid attention something, though it was really hard to tell whether something was happening when you weren't paying attention to it. Barry narrowed his eyes. Iris would be able to help him come up with some experiment to test this, and he really had other things he needed to focus on at the moment, now that he had confirmed that some level of control was possible.

Unfortunately, focusing was becoming harder and harder to do. All this energy was bouncing around in his head, and all of it wanted him to move. While waving his hand around was the reasonable experiment to do, when he had no idea what possible side effects there could be, it wasn't enough to satisfy the energy. It seemed to scoff at the experiment. That wasn't _really_ movement. Running on the other hand... Barry had pushed the thought back several times, but it kept on popping up. Each time the concept became more tempting.

Barry glanced back in the direction from which he had come. The hospital by this point was completely out of view. It would take a decent amount of time to walk the several blocks back, and he hadn't been planning to be gone for very long anyways.

He pulled his eyes away. No. Not now. People filled the streets, and, though he was sure no one was paying attention, he wasn't sure he was ready to do something that weird in front of somebody he trusted let alone a crowd of strangers. Even if that weren't the problem, weaving in between the people would cause a problem even if he were planning to run at a normal speed. He'd probably have to jerk around so much that he wouldn't be able to get up to super speed anyways, and he cringed imagining running into someone at such velocities. That would not be fun for either party involved.

Barry remembered running in the road on the way here, but he quickly shot that idea down. It goes without saying that we have all been taught not to run out into busy streets. Moreover, he'd still have to weave between the cars, and, just like people, there certainly wasn't any shortage of those.

Despite his attempts to dissuade himself, his eyes were already evaluating the traffic flow and how bad a run would really be. While the cars were certainly bigger and didn't leave much room in between, they also were extremely regular. A gap between vehicles consistently appeared down the white lines demarcating the lanes. Only crazy people and people trying to change lanes caused any exceptions, and though he would still have to worry about the former, the latter always ensured plenty of space for him to weave around them. The individual velocities in addition to the positions were also easier to deal with; vehicles in the same lane moved in the same direction at generally the same speed.

Furthermore, he didn't have to worry about hurting anybody, or at least anybody else. A collision with a car sounded more painful than running into a person, but he couldn't imagine himself scratching the car's paint let alone denting the metal. Knowing that you would be the only one to pay for your own stupidity was strangely comforting.

All and all it didn't look too bad.

Barry's feet began to move almost before he finished the thought, and his mind pulled even harder on the energy, while whatever he had built up rushed to his limbs. This time he had enough say in things that his brain kept a greater portion of energy. Even if he still had to hand over control of his body, his mind would have some room for thoughts.

First turning his feet, he darted next to the traffic following its flow to avoid a head on collision. This wasn't exactly optimal; when he had exited his previous run, he had entered the sidewalk closest to him, so the traffic actually headed away from his destination. He would have to turn make a U-turn at the next intersection. His lips twitched at the thought of using those terms to describe a person's actions rather than a vehicle's.

Unfortunately, going faster than the cars around him ensured that left unassisted he had a wider turning radius. In fact, Barry was surprised at how tight he was making it as it was, though he could feel the pavement pushing up through the soles of his shoes, trying to keep his feet in place in order to give the appropriate traction. But it still wouldn't be tight enough. He was already getting dangerously close to the oncoming traffic, and he wasn't all the way turned yet.

Barry's eyes widened. As his brain had been calculating his route, it started throwing up warning signals that the route had woven painfully close and, well, into a minivan. Well, here comes his payment for stupidity.

Yet, it didn't come. As he got close, whatever was controlling his body had other plans. Approaching he vehicle, he jumped partway up, just enough to reposition a leg in between him and the car's exterior. Hence, as he collided with the vehicle, he was able to cushion the blow by bending the leg then pushing off.

This wasn't exactly without its consequences either. His whole entire leg and especially the joints felt sore for a few seconds afterwards; there was only so much cushioning his leg could do. He needed to execute the maneuver precisely because his body could only take so much force, and thus it could only give out so much as well. Push too hard on his leg or lock it stiff, and it would certainly break. Unfortunately, he only had the length of his leg with which to make corrections. Apply not enough force through his leg, then, and the rest of his body would run into the car at a good fraction of the speed he had been going at. Even if he managed to reduce that fraction down to a manageable amount, it would have robbed him of his momentum right in the middle of an intersection where cars could come at him from not two but four directions.

Barry found it surprising that there was any force which satisfied both requirements, but judging by his leg's complaints, he'd been pushed just past his limit. The lack of complaints elsewhere in his body only emphasized how close he had come to serious injuries. The soles of his feet which were hitting the pavement in rapid succession did not ache as one might expect. The muscles of his other leg, which were currently doing more physical activity than they were used to doing in a week or a month, only felt invigorated by the exertion. His lungs continually worked in order to keep his blood oxygenated against the greedy mitochondria powering his advance, and somehow they succeeded. Though air pulsed back and forth through his nostrils and windpipe, he did not feel out of breath.

Despite the aching in his leg, he did get some benefits out of the action. For one he hadn't splatted up against a car. But, more than that, actually having something to push against had allowed him to tighten his turn. He hadn't been able to do so earlier because of the limits of friction.

When turning one needs a centripetal force, or one pointing towards the center of the turn, to provide the change in velocity, here defined by a change in direction rather than a change in speed. The centripetal force needed for a turn is proportional directly to the square of the objects speed and indirectly to the turning radius, so rushing past the cars like that meant that the force necessary for a sharp turn was really high, as one would intuitively expect.

This is where the friction typically comes in: one can push outward on the ground and expect the ground catch your foot and push back instead of letting your foot slide across it. Unfortunately, there is a limit to how much force friction will provide before your foot indeed starts sliding. Worse, Barry could not count on the fact that he had less mass than the surrounding cars that the force would have to push against. The force provided to you by friction with an object is determined by how much you are pushing on that object, along with a coefficient determined by the materials which contacted each other. In this case, the force both he and the cars were providing against the pavement was from gravity, and thus already proportional to his mass anyways. Barry also doubted his shoes would do much better than the tires, which are specifically designed to handle this.

Hence, he had to look at changing his speed or the radius along which he was turning. Well, Barry wasn't going to slow down. Not with this rush flowing through him and certainly not in the middle of an intersection. So, he had to make do with a wide turn and had hoped it wouldn't lead him to a collision.

However, the maneuver of pushing off of the car gave him a new way to get centripetal force as the push was in exactly the direction he needed. He was now moving parallel to the car.

The speed force did most of the formulaic work, but Barry had an intuitive grasp of these ideas, at least conceptually. He knew why he shouldn't expect a quick turn, even if he didn't have the exact figures or the time to calculate the probable turning radius. While he was certainly surprised that his body somehow knew how to safely jump and push off of a moving vehicle, he did not blink at the result. He continued moving forward.

Now, positioned next to the car, he darted between the lanes. Other than the occasional pushes to avoid side view mirrors, it was a straight run. The only unfortunate thing was that it was practically over before he could _really_ get his momentum going because as soon as he saw the stone block proclaiming "Chambers Medical Center" he needed to swerve again to pull up next to the building.

He slowed down to a walk on the grassy divider which contained the hospital's stone marker. He was laughing in joy from the experience, but as he released the speed force the laughs became hollower. His feet stopped. What had he done, and more importantly why had he done it? He stared blankly ahead for a moment before sitting down and resting his back against the stone.

He had been planning to stick to small things, at least until he found out whether or not it was dangerous. It wasn't the run itself that scared him, though; he might be worrying about whether or not there were dangerous side effects to this, but he still acknowledged and hoped that he'd already experienced the worst of it with his messed up perception and, now that he thought about it, his heightened metabolism. Moreover, even falling off of the high which the run had induced, he still felt physically fine. In fact, he felt great and more alert than he had felt cramped up in the hospital room. This extended to his mental health as well. Before, there had been some pressure pushing on his mind so consistently that he had fazed it out, and it had receded during the run. Barry would still maintain his skepticism and look out for any changes in his health, but he was not going to beat himself over the head if he didn't find any.

No, what scared him was how easily he had changed his mind once he had started pulling on his abilities. He hadn't stumbled upon some new piece of evidence nor did he find a new train of thought that would justify the action.

He had run simply because he had wanted to. He didn't even like running. At least before the accident he hadn't been a big fan of the activity. The abilities had obviously messed with his head. Hell, even now that the compulsion had left, he still felt a small part of him calling back for the abilities and the rush. At this point, it was the tiniest of whispers, only noticeable when he looked for it or remembered the run. Furthermore, when he first started channeling the abilities, the compulsion wasn't too bad. Only after holding the feeling in his head for a while did it start to complain. Barry knew he shouldn't anthropomorphize, but he could feel the abilities want to be used completely, and he had been pulling way more than he needed.

Barry stared at the ground between his feet. Well, there was a lesson to be learned here. Don't pull the feeling closer unless you are planning to use the abilities because you will end up using them anyways.

Barry glanced over his shoulder at the stone marker's engraving. He pushed himself up and looked over the stone at the hospital's entrance. He would have to go back to his room at some point. They were probably already looking for him.

He should decide whether to tell people about this before heading in though, and his previous consideration of that topic had been conveniently interrupted. Where had he left that thought again? He'd gone over the reasons why he should tell his family and the doctors. He mentally went through the list again. Then, oh yeah, the reasons his life would never get back to normal. That was what he had been thinking about when he'd accidentally walked out into the road.

Getting back on that train of thought, Barry realized it wasn't just the doctors he would have to worry about. This was beyond being a medical curiosity or having the doctors worried about his health. He was probably breaking several laws of physics and theories of biology when he ran. Scientists would want to study him. They might be nice about it. They might respect his rights. But the need to understand what made his abilities work would push them, and they would not leave him alone. He wouldn't just be Barry to them. He'd be a way to understand more about the universe and the limits of human biology.

Scientists have to respect certain ethics, yet it would only take one who didn't care about him as a person for his life to become hell. They could pester him to no end till he had to use the courts to get him to stop, and you know how long that would take.

They could disrespect his confidentiality, and suddenly he would become not just a scientific but also a public curiosity. Hell, that might happen anyways, if somebody who he didn't trust got wind of this. The public interest would eventually fade. The public has a really short attention span. But, for the time when the public is interested in something strange, its attention is intense, repeating whatever new piece of information is available fifty ba-jillion times. Furthermore, even after the public decides to move on to something else, it never really forgets. He would always be the guy who could move freakishly fast.

He probably shouldn't have run in front of everybody like that. As said, it would only take one person, scientist or not, to leak is affliction to the media and make his life hell.

And, with those thoughts, he decided it should be a secret for now. If anything came up, he would go straight to his family and then to the doctors. He wasn't going to be stupid and try to stick it on his own, if things turned for the worst. Despite his new abilities, he wasn't superhuman; he had limits, and he recognized them. Still, once he told people there would be no going back. He couldn't even do it half way because any family member who he told would immediately worry for him and push him to the hospital.

Barry sighed. It was such a big decision, and he still had so much to process, not only about what the decision would ultimately be but also generally about what happened. It still felt like the afternoon, so not much time had passed. Barry frowned. It would probably take days or weeks before these abilities and all their repercussions sunk in. He'd already made plans to drop by the police station in a couple days and, in the case that the doctors finally released him, talk with Captain Frye about resuming his life. How would he be able to do it?

Barry got up and started walking towards the hospital's entrance. He was glad to feel the soft squish of grass beneath his feet, but he knew he had to return to the hard tiled floors of the painted white hallways and rooms.

There were other worries that itched at him. The biggest of these involved his mother's attacker. Up until this point, he hadn't been able to consider them a person, just a person shaped blur moving through his house, practically a force of nature. The person's mere existence was so inexplicable, that Barry couldn't even begin to wonder what their life had been like and what had driven them to do what they did. But, now Barry could imagine not just the shape of a person but an actual person within that blur, and questions bloomed at the back of his mind. Why did they kill his mother? Did they have similar reasons for not telling anybody or was it something more sinister? Had they told people but had then covered up their tracks? Had they experienced a similar accident or was it something else entirely?

However, the human mind is limited, and he had more immediate things to worry about anyways. He would postpone those thoughts until at least he had gotten a night's rest and refreshed his brain.

Walking into the front lobby, Barry noticed that he both recognized it and didn't. It was obviously the one he had run through earlier. It had the same shape, the same desk, the same obnoxiously colored wallpaper, the same three hallways protruding out in seemingly random directions. But, there were so many details that he had missed while running at super speed. The wall paper was not only colored obnoxiously, but an odd floral pattern covered it and added to its distaste. Instead of tiling, an off-white carpet covered the floor. A young man sat behind the desk sorting papers. While these new facts weren't that important, and Barry still knew the route back to his room, he felt a little disoriented and slowed down.

The man behind the desk looked up. "Is there anything I could do to help you?"

Barry shook his head. "Just heading back to my room." He smiled nervously and pointed down the hall. Somebody had probably noticed he had left, but in case no one had yet wandered into his room to check up on him, he'd rather not draw any attention to himself.

Unfortunately, as Barry lifted his hand to point, the bright red paper bracelet around his wrist caught the man's eye. The man's eyebrows rose, and his jaw dropped slightly. "According to your tag, you weren't supposed to leave. Can I see the band? I'm going to call the doctor assigned to you." The man was already fiddling with his computer, flipping open the hospital's directory.

Barry's expression fell. "It's Dr. Engels. He's in hall G, room 40. If it helps, I'm in F56."

"Stay here." The man turned back to the computer.

Barry pressed his lips together. The annoying orderly eventually came down to pick him up and drag him back to his room. That evening he had a larger than normal dinner, while Iris berated him for his stupidity. Part way through a rant, she commented that he seemed distracted. Barry only shrugged, absentmindedly grabbing another spoonful of over-salted mashed potatoes.

**A/N:** This was a big chapter in more ways than one. Barry finally ran, started to figure out what was going on, then ran again. And you guys probably thought I would never get to it.

Well, there was a reason it took so long: I wanted to make this feel like it could exist in the Arrow universe. The Arrow universe so far does not have overt superpowers. What it does have is the drug mirakuru and that was built up for a while before anyone actually used it. Moreover, the Arrow series has specifically avoided superpowers even when they might have gotten away with it. Therefore, I couldn't use super speed as a premise; it had to be a conclusion, one which I built up over time. Hence, I first established the Speed Force as a thing then showed how it influenced Barry in more subtle ways before giving a small taste of super speed where I could clarify the perception issue ahead of time. Now things are different between when a set of objects is moving quickly and you are standing still and when the world is moving at a normal pace and you are moving quickly. But I got a little bit of the issues cleared up ahead of time.

I also wanted to connect this back to the Arrow universe by hammering in that this doesn't circumvent physics completely; these new rules compliment and go hand in hand with the ones we are familiar with. Now, some of my working in "hammering" that in has been me beating you guys upside the head with high speed bio-physics, but then at least hopefully you guys will be learning something.

In particular, with the turning radius stuff, I had discovered while thinking about it that it would be really hard to pull off the ultra-sharp turns he is often shown executing. Not while just running fast. Now, with a greater finesse in handling the speed force and some practice he can pull those off, but not on his first two runs when he doesn't even have a conceptualization of the speed force, let alone how to manipulate it.

Another thing I had to worry about was getting Barry positioned correctly. He may be the only one ready to admit that super speed exists, but he is also the character of Arrow who can tell you all the reasons why it shouldn't be possible. He knows it is "unexplainable". He knows it is weird. He knows why a mere lightning bolt and chemical bath shouldn't be able to give him superpowers. Therefore, he knows that he should be skeptical and careful. Unfortunately, while we know that it wasn't just a lightning bolt and chemical bath, Barry doesn't yet know the speed force exists, so to him it would just be an accident, which offers far less explanation for the appearance of super powers than a drug designed specifically for that effect. Even the drug has side effects.

In fact, part of my previous chapters was conditioning Barry to the idea that he doesn't just seek out weird stuff, he is a nexus of weird occurrences. That way when he did find out, he would have somewhere to start in trying to understand this and shift his view of the world accordingly. Otherwise, he might have been too busy freaking out.

That's enough for why I decided to set up the discovery this way. The story is obviously going to turn here, now that Barry knows about his abilities. He isn't done questioning them by far, but he is also going to be figuring out what they are good for. I've dropped some hints at where this is going to go, but that doesn't mean I have no twists up my sleeve. In any case, the pace will be picking up as Barry tries to grapple with the abilities and gets a case to work on.

Considering this is such an important turning point for the story, I particularly want to hear back from you guys and what you guys think about the story so far. Don't be shy. Leave a review. You could even complain about something!

Also, Barry your right. You're life, or at least this version of your life, is not a comic book. It is a TV show. There are some other references sprinkled throughout here. Not a whole lot, but a few. Hope you enjoy them.


	8. Chapter 7: Connections

I know. I know. I should have updated earlier. It's just that Chapter 6 took me so long to write that I lost the edge of having chapters written ahead of time because time I would have spent working on this chapter and the next, I had to spend writing chapter 6 (which by the way is twice the length of the longest chapter preceding it!). That isn't bad in and of itself; the chapter deserved the words. But right after then my life got so busy that I didn't have time to write, though fortunately I was able to double down later. On top of that, I have to deal with broken computers and road trips. Not fun. Also, there was a glitch in sending it to my secondary beta, so I'm not sure if they got it. As such, and kind of awkwardly, half of this was beta'd by my mom and the other half is all me. Therefore, if you see any mistakes please send in.

But, enough excuses, onto the show. I hope you enjoy this installment.

**Chapter 7: Connections**

Barry walked into the CCPD headquarters excited at the prospect of getting back to his normal life, or at least his old job, considering certain parts of his life were probably never going to return to normal. Unfortunately, he had also been right about one thing; three days was not enough time to process what had happened. So many questions still bounced around in his head regarding how he had been able to run at such speeds, partly out of curiosity and partly out of worry.

"Why me?" popped up a number of times as well. The abilities seemed to be a result of the accident, so it mostly came down to being in the right place at the right time. Not many people were doused with shelves full of dangerous chemicals. The addition of the lightning to the mixture had probably created some new and exotic compounds. Once he accepted that he had the abilities, those ideas provided the best explanation for how he had acquired them, even if he didn't know how they worked. Yet, the coincidence that such an accident would happen to a person who had a previous and in fact life-changing experience with super speed seemed suspicious.

A similar accident must have happened to the person who had attacked his mother, and while given it granted super speed, the killer must have lived in Central City or the surrounding areas. Why else would the attacker have chosen to attack Nora Allen? The whole incident had seemed very purposeful, so Barry had always suspected the murderer had some connection with his mother, even if the two didn't know each other personally. But, then, a similar accident would have had to have happened nearby. Considering no one seemed to know that super speed existed, Barry doubted that the chemicals in question occurred very frequently. Unless there was a gigantic government cover up, but even thinking about that as a possibility made Barry uneasy, so he dropped the idea. Unfortunately, he didn't have any better ones.

The fact that somebody else had moved into the room the evening of his run and that the hospital's monitoring of him had increased tenfold since the incident didn't help matters any either. He had no privacy during which he could test the abilities. Looking over the data from his medical files sand the list Julio had sent him was fine, but even knowing the biggest side effect of them all, Barry couldn't make heads or tails of the information.

Not being able to use the abilities affected Barry mentally as well as intellectually. Though Barry knew that the run had been all-too real, without any other cases of accidental super speed and not daring to touch the associated feeling with a ten foot pole until he was alone, he began to feel like he was going crazy. Maybe it hadn't really happened. Maybe what control he had mustered had been blind luck, and he actually didn't know how to turn the abilities on and off. Moreover, while the idea of choosing not to use the abilities was fine by him, having the decision forced upon him, felt wrong, almost claustrophobic.

Therefore, though he wished the tests had come back with some useful data to parse the situation apart and had hoped that _somebody_ would notice _something_ after the run, he was certainly glad to leave the premises when the results came back negative. He also unpacked and cleaned up his hole-in-the-wall apartment a little… quicker than otherwise. Just a little though. He wasn't going to be reckless.

After making sure his place was in order and mentally thanking his family for keeping the apartment in order as well as they had, Barry flopped onto his bed. He had had a long week. While he physically he felt fine despite the sudden bust of activity, his brain felt like he had attempted to get to Starling without his new abilities aiding him.

His arm lazily reached over to the small bookshelf by his bed, and his fingers fiddled with the book spines before pulling forward a familiar friend with a tattered binding. He needed rest. Unfortunately, it could have been a while before his eyes finally fluttered closed. The pages between his fingertips weren't boring by far, but he had practically memorized their contents. The words knew when not to ask too much of him. At ten, he finally placed the book aside, eyelids heavy, sleep beckoning.

Now, Barry was wishing that he had gotten to sleep sooner. He didn't know how that would help his situation; he wasn't particularly tired. But, maybe it would have calmed his nerves. What would Captain Frye decide? Would he receive his old job under Patty Spivot? Would he be demoted to paperwork duty down in the basement? Would they bring him back at all? Barry hadn't exactly left on a high note, so that last option remained a distinct possibility. Before going into a coma, Captain Frye had discovered he had not had food poisoning, and Team Arrow had derailed his rush back to the department. Because he couldn't give that excuse to his boss without harming Green Arrow's ability to do his job, Barry wasn't sure what he would say in his defense.

Maybe if a certain medical condition hadn't reared its head, he wouldn't have been so distracted and would have had time to think about it.

On the good side, Captain Frye seemed welcoming when Barry had made the appointment, and Julio had said that the labs, like always, could use an extra hand. That had to count for something. Barry just had to hope that Captain Frye wanted some of that help to come from him. Too bad right now Barry knew who would win if his optimism and his current anxiety got in a fight, and it wasn't the optimism

Barry shook his head and knocked on the door to the captain's office. Captain Darryl Frye would decide what he decided. He should just make it through the meeting and not worry so much. He'll deal with the meeting's consequences once he knew what they were.

"Come in." Captain Frye called from inside.

Barry opened the door. Captain Frye hunched over his desk, pen darting across a stack of bright white papers, before he started filing them away. "Sorry, Barry. I was hoping I could get some of this out of the way before you came in." Captain Frye gave a laugh. "Ever since getting this job, I think the department invented paperwork just to keep people from wanting promotions."

Barry smiled. Though it had been a little intimidating having the man as his boss, Barry had known him for a long time through Daniel West, so seeing Darryl's humor shine through helped set Barry at ease. "I wasn't too late, was I?"

Darryl glanced at the clock. "No. You're a little early even." He shrugged. "It's been so long, I'd forgotten about that bad habit of yours. Don't worry. It was never so bad that it would affect my decision here." Darryl gestured with an open hand at the large-cushioned chair in front of his desk. "Sit down."

Barry sat. "So, is there any sort of procedure for this sort of thing?"

"I wish." Darryl gave a short laugh. "I've never had to deal with a worker going into a coma before you got struck by lightning, and before you woke up, I never had to deal with rehiring somebody who never officially quit nor had been fired or laid off. Trying to figure this out is a little disorienting." Darryl paused. "Then again, if there were a procedure, there would probably be five forms I would have to fill out to go along with it."

"So, what exactly is my employment status then?"

"Legally? I don't know. Throughout the department's system you're included sometimes but not others. For example, we couldn't bring ourselves to cut the health insurance, considering it was a health condition that prevented you from working in the first place, a condition you got in one of our labs no less. However, four months ago during a routine system clean up, your name got removed from the payroll." Darryl tilted his head. "Hopefully, by the end of this meeting we'll be able to get you back in there." He turned to face the small computer monitor positioned precariously close to the desk's edge and flicked the mouse to wake it up.

Barry's eyebrows jumped. "So, I will be rehired?"

Darryl gave a comforting smile. "The department could always use more help. Getting things done a little slower here means Central City has a little less piece of mind, so I'm not against picking up somebody we know is competent." Darryl's eyes hardened; Barry felt his stomach drop. "We just need to know where to put you."

With the captain's eyes boring into him, Barry could only give a nervous nod. Darryl hadn't forgotten about that last incident.

"On one hand, you're a great CSI. You've routinely shown initiative in your work and the ability to think outside the box as well as a technical understanding of forensics. If you hadn't run off to Starling, I was this close to removing the word assistant from your title," Darryl held up his right index and thumb half a centimeter apart for emphasis, "and Queen Consolidated's report on your services certainly demonstrates that you don't need someone telling you what to do." Darryl gave Barry a pointed look. "At least as a CSI."

If Barry didn't feel the 'On the other hand' coming, he would have smiled at the news. He hadn't known he was that close to a promotion or that anyone, probably Patty Spivot, was noticing his work. Patty Spivot was a nice person; Barry could have imagined them being friends, if she hadn't been his supervisor. But, towards her assistants she had a guarded attitude. Though she gave useful feedback and criticism, neither Barry nor Julio had been able to tell how she felt about them as workers. While he still would have headed to Starling, knowing that information, with the prospect of greater freedom just around the corner, Barry would have been more selective in his excursions away from the CCPD.

Moreover, his relationship with Oliver Queen had been awkward from the start, the older man clearly questioning his forensic authority and experience. To say the least, things had not improved once Oliver Queen had discovered that Felicity had leaked his secret to Barry. Hence, the fact that Queen Consolidated had sent a report at all came as a surprise.

However, Captain Frye's whole speech dripped with foreshadowing, the 'On the other hand' hanging at the end of each word. Barry couldn't savor the good news.

"Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of you as an employee. As said, your consistent tardiness is forgivable though still noticeable. Worse, is that you seem to forget that it was the CCPD that hired you not the departments in Kansas City, Blue Valley, or Starling."

Barry's eyes widened. "We discovered those other ones after we realized what had happened with your case of food poising last December. The departments in question are typically grateful for your assistance, but if we hire you, that means we have tasks for you to do here, and we can't have you suddenly running off. If you do that again, somebody else will take your position, no matter how qualified you are. In fact, I will probably be requiring you to bring in doctor's notes before calling in sick after the number of times you pulled that excuse. I will have to personally approve any vacation days."

Again Barry nodded, though this time he managed to push out a "yes," before adding a "sir" for good measure. The only reason they hadn't listed his trip to Hub City was that he had done that on his own vacation time.

Captain Frye tilted his head. "No defense?"

"Guilty as charged." Barry shrugged. No point in lying now. "And, I investigated those cases for personal reasons which I do not regret. The only thing I can say now is that with all the weird occurrences here in Central, it doesn't look like I'd have to be leaving anyways."

Captain Frye pushed his lips together. " 'Figured you'd say something like that. West told you, I assume." He didn't even pause for an answer before he was flipping through one of the stacks of paper on his desk. "We're having so many unexplained cases here in Central that the FBI suggested we set up our own task force to deal with them, so their division doesn't feel the need to drop by every single time." He finally pulled out a sheet of paper and glanced down at it. "I know unexplained phenomena are a bit personal for you, so tell me why you will be able to remain objective if I put you on it."

Barry took a deep breath. This was something he had always wanted, to be able to explore the edges of the known and help explain it, to provide someone else the comfort he had never had, to have his crazy ideas actually be useful for once. No pressure.

He gathered his thoughts. All the reasons he had dodged work and traveled to other cities at the hint of a case involving some unexplained phenomenon which others might overlook. All of his drive to push through a major in biology and then a degree in forensics. All of his joy in aiding Queen Consolidated and finding his theories pan out for once. The tinge of amazement which lined his disappointment when the picture came together on other cases without the fantastic elements he had expected. Even the world you know can offer little wonders.

Barry discarded the reasons which hit too close to his heart and kept the others floating in his brain.

"I will admit that I have a personal connection to ideas which others might dismiss off hand, and I will be the first person to tell you that I am unfit to work a case involving, for lack of a better word, super speed." Barry felt reality slap him at the statement, reminding him that now he had more than one reason to lose objectivity with regards to speed. He paused to recompose himself. "But, I have other reasons to investigate such cases, and I don't have to let my history with odd occurrences rule me.

"I love science and the scientific method, not because it pretends to explain everything but because it allows us to bring new knowledge into the fold. Solving routine cases where everything makes sense, at least physically speaking, is great for the families of those involved. Seeing an unexplained element does make me hopeful that such things are more common than people assume and that I wasn't crazy. Yet, I also want to bring those elements into the realm of what we know. I'm not going to offer ridiculous hypotheses like 'aliens did it' without regard for the evidence because that isn't going to help anyone including me. While people might not originally believe my hypotheses, I make sure to back up my ideas and will change them as new evidence arises."

Barry swallowed. He hoped he addressed the issues running through the captain's head. It all depended on how the captain thought he was going to lose focus.

Captain Frye looked back at the paper, rolling his lips for a moment in contemplation. "And, how are you going to come up with these unbelievable hypotheses?"

This Barry knew how to answer; it was merely what he did every time he saw a blip over the interdepartmental police network, rushed off to another city, and surveyed the crime scene.

"A case is unexplainable because no hypothesis fits it. There is no routine way to proceed. Often there's a hypothesis that people are willing to accept, that they will sleep soundly with, but even that hypothesis ignores certain pieces of evidence. Everyone else is going to look at that explanation, so I look at the others. I take the evidence everyone else is ignoring and find the best hypothesis to fit it, even if I have to take some liberties with established scientific knowledge. Still, I note what those liberties are, in the hopes that those points of departure can be bridged."

Barry looked Captain Frye in the eye. "My hypothesis might not end up being correct, but it deserves to be heard. Established scientific knowledge is great and thorough, but it has its limits. Perhaps one of these cases will point one of those limits out."

Captain Frye did not answer immediately. Barry stared at him intently, wide eyed.

He was back in college during an oral exam. The question had been vague, suggesting that the professor had something particular in mind but not what it was. The professor was deciding whether or not his answer was it. However, Captain Frye wasn't his professor but rather his boss, and it wasn't a grade on the line but rather the job he'd always wanted and dreamed for.

Captain Frye shrugged. "The FBI hadn't been specific about what answer you should give, just that it could be a problem with these sort things. People who seek out weird phenomena tend to be a bit involved, and I know you certainly have reason to be. 'Thought that you should at least have and answer, and I should note it down. We'll figure this thing out as we go."

Suddenly the tension in Barry's muscles disappeared, and Barry felt his jaw go slack. "It didn't matter that much what I said? You were planning to put me on the task force?"

"So long as it didn't have me question your mental health," Captain Frye, now once again Darryl, smiled. "though you seem to have given your answer a lot of thought, so I'm really not worried." Darryl put down the sheet of paper. "The FBI said it is usually best to have a mixture of believers and skeptics working on such cases, and your name immediately came to mind with regards to the former category."

Barry could see the logic behind it. You would need somebody willing to suggest the unthinkable but also somebody to keep the believer's head from becoming stuck in the clouds. "So, who's going to be the skeptic?"

"You and Julio seem to get along great, and Spivot already reported that he has a tendency to keep you grounded. I assume you wouldn't mind sharing a lab with him again?" Barry shrugged in approval. Julio was a good person; he looked forward to working with him again.

Darryl continued. "Unfortunately, this doesn't let you completely off the hook. Your record of absences means I don't exactly trust you to stay without supervision. You also just woke up from a coma, so I'd want somebody watching over you to make sure you adjust back properly. Even though you won't be an assistant anymore, I want you to report to Detective Edward Thawne. He will be the liaison between the investigative and detainment portions of the task force."

Barry scrunched his eyebrows together. "Thawne?"

"He's rather new here, I'll admit; he transferred to the department three months ago," Darryl wove his hand through the air to show how little it mattered. "But, he had a good record and has proven himself competent while here. Most importantly, while he doesn't specialize in the scientific aspects of police work, he's shown a better understanding of science than most of the other detectives. Considering the cases you'll be working will hinge on figuring out how exactly they do or do not break the natural laws, I wanted to have the go between be able to keep up with that sort of stuff, speak both science and cop."

"Do you want to me to talk with him after this meeting?"

"That would be nice," Darryl nodded, "Could you start tomorrow, or do you need more time?"

Barry checked his watch. 10:30. He would still have time to grab groceries after checking in with everybody, and that was the important thing.

He'd had a light dinner last night in the rush to go home, and he had had to grab some fast food on the way here. Unfortunately, he'd slept longer than expected, so while he still managed to consume more than the chain's other patrons, he still wasn't caught up on his caloric intake. Barry had been glad throughout the most of the meeting that his stomach seemed to know that it would have to endure bouts of hunger and thus only growled at times of starvation. But, even if his stomach wasn't alerting anybody else, he wouldn't be able to go another day like this.

Barry nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "I'll be able to come in… tomorrow."

"Good." Darryl looked at the sheet again. "I think we're done here then. I'll straighten out the official aspects of it with Director Singh at our meeting later this week. You're free to go."

Barry got up to leave. As he opened the door, he turned around. "Darryl, thank you. It means a lot to me." And, it did.

Darryl had done a lot for him growing up. He had been at the investigation of Nora Allen's murder along with Daniel West. Back then the two had been officers working in the field, with the people they were protecting. Since then Daniel had adopted Barry and had been promoted to detective. He wouldn't want to go any higher in the department, as it would take him too far away from the people. Yet, even as Darryl continued to climb the ranks, the family friend continued to stop by for the backyard barbeques. He continued to check in at the key moments in Barry's life.

But, he didn't need to do any of that, and he didn't owe Barry anything now. Barry wasn't just grateful for the position on the task force.

Darryl smiled. "No problem. You're a good kid. You just need to remember to actually show up every once and a while."

Barry walked towards Detective Thawne's cubicle or at least across the cubicle sea hoping to stumble across it. It was odd. He was glad for the new position, but he hoped that he would be assigned to someone he knew. He had enough on his plate without trying to figure out the whims of a new boss. Some things you could tell right away; people just gave off certain vibes. Yet, you could never immediately tell what things would set somebody off. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind a bit of tardiness. Though Barry hoped that he could get this speed thing under control and use that to arrive on time, he knew his luck wasn't that good. His luck was never that good.

Part way across the sea of cubicles, Barry suddenly stopped. Something felt… off. On some levels it was comforting, like there was a presence out there and he wasn't alone. Why he would be alone he didn't know, but apparently he wasn't. However, it was also disturbed him. Like the presence had no reason to exist, and in any case, something about it rubbed him wrong.

He glanced back and forth. Where had that come from? Was he going crazy… er… crazier? He shook his head.

It was probably nothing. He couldn't even describe how the presence felt or why it produced these small emotional reactions in him. He certainly didn't sense it physically. His eyes didn't pick up anything new, and the same buzz of office chatter reached his ears. The air still felt stale against his skin and only contained the faint smell of dust. It was probably something mental then, perhaps his brain straightening the fallout of his meeting with Darryl. It hadn't gone the way he was expecting.

He walked another fourth of the way across the room before he saw the plaque declaring the cubicle office of Detective Edward Thawne. Barry froze.

The man might not even be there. As an detective, there was a good chance he was on patrol or just out and about, and Darryl hadn't bothered to check that. That could be a sign that Darryl knew the man was in or that he didn't consider Barry meeting up with Detective Thawne that important. Still, it was worth having a chance to meet his new supervisor before his first day back. Barry raised his hand, paused, and then knocked on the carpeted wall. Even though he could just step around and take a look inside, he wanted to make a polite impression, if Detective Thawne was in. Most people did not like others suddenly appearing behind them.

He heard the shuffling of papers and a hesitant "Yes?" Barry stepped to the side and into view.

A blonde and tall man had turned half way around in his chair holding a large stack of papers in one hand. Several other stacks littered the man's desk, most on top of or still contained in manila envelopes. He wore a slightly confused and frustrated expression, which Barry hoped meant that while Detective Thawne didn't want to be interrupted, he wouldn't blame Barry for stopping by.

Barry hesitated for a moment trying to think of what to say. "I'm not sure if Captain Frye warned you that I would be coming. I only just found out about it myself." Detective Thawne continued to stare blankly in Barry's direction. Barry swallowed, before giving a slight wave. "I'm Barry Allen."

Detective Thawne's eyebrows shot up. "You're _the_ Barry Allen?"

Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. Barry blinked. "If you are _the _Edward Thawne whom Captain Frye mentioned, then, I am _the_ Barry Allen who was assigned to report to you. I'm not sure if I would precede my name with an article more generally."

"I am indeed him. However, I don't particularly like the name Edward, so you can call me Eddie or Thawne." Barry tucked that information away, deciding on Thawne because he couldn't call his supervisor Eddie.

Thawne gave a slight laugh, deftly placing the pile of papers in his hands back on the desk. "Sorry about that, though. I was a little surprised to receive the liaison position when I volunteered for it, and then suddenly I receive an email yesterday saying that I will probably be watching over someone on the task force but 'don't worry about it. It won't be that much work.' I wasn't entirely sure what to make of the arrangement." Thawne gave a brief smile. "Plus, not every police department has somebody who has gone into a coma let alone from a lightning bolt the same day as a meltdown at a particle accelerator. I transferred in a half a year after your accident, but I was bound to hear about it eventually."

"I guess I should have expected that." Barry stood there awkwardly. What exactly are you supposed to say to your new supervisor? Was one just supposed to get the formalities out of the way then leave or was he supposed to stick around and chat? Considering the official work started tomorrow, Barry decided on trying to know the man better. "So, I heard you only moved to Central recently. How are you liking it here?"

"It's practically perfect: the right combination of big city buzz and Midwestern relaxation." For a split moment, Thawne's facial muscles tensed, his eyes squinted, and his gaze lost its focus. An expression containing both nostalgia and pain darted across his face.

The expression had left almost as soon as it had arrived, and Thawne's muscles relaxed again. Barry raised his eyebrows in anticipation. He wasn't going to force the man to continue, but there seemed to be a story behind the move and an emotional one at that. Thawne paused for a moment before looking Barry in the eyes and continuing, "I grew up in Metropolis, and there always seemed to be something going on. There is S.T.A.R. Labs' and the United Nation's headquarters, along with a number of other iconic organizations and individuals trying to make a difference. After experiencing all of that I could never go to some slow small town."

Thawne's eyes glanced downwards, and he glared at the floor, so intensely that Barry thought he and the carpet were having a death match. "Unfortunately, the City of Tomorrow has lost its tarnish for me. I discovered too many of the institutions I had trusted had lost touched with their roots, and the rest of the East Coast didn't seem any better." Thawne looked up from carpet in apparent victory. "I thought I'd try Central City out for a change. The people here seem to be able to move forward without forgetting where they have been."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows. "Seems like a big move."

"Not so much as you'd think but at the same time more than you can imagine. I visited Central a few times before the final move and even spent two weeks here in the middle of June scoping the city out, so I'd have a feel for the place. It's still feels small, though. The City of Tomorrow never really stops; sometimes it seems like you can go forever without leaving the sky scrapers. It always surprises me here when I suddenly end up in suburbia." He tilted his head inquisitively. "How about you? Do you like this city?"

"I've lived in the city or in one of its suburbs all my life, so," Barry shrugged, "it's my home. I'd do anything to protect it."

A moment passed before Thawne offered, "I assume you want to know the specifics of how this is going to work out."

"That would be nice. I'm not exactly sure how Captain Frye expects the task force to work or what he meant precisely by report to you." Barry was fairly certain that Darryl had invented Barry's new arrangement in the department, and while the department had created task forces for particularly big cases in the past, he hadn't heard of a more permanent one like this.

"First," Thawne took a moment to mentally retrieve the information, "according to the email Captain Frye sent me, I wouldn't interfere too much with what you were doing, and I know enough about forensics to say that you probably know way more. I won't be telling you what to do. He more wanted you to be telling me what you were up to. If you could check in with me at the start of each day and email me an abbreviated version of any paperwork you would have sent to Spivot, we'll be fine."

Barry bobbed his head in approval. "That doesn't seem too bad."

"I didn't think so either." He adjusted himself in his seat. "Now for the task force. The FBI said that cases like these require a different mentality than most cases. After banging my head up against the wall working two including this one and talking with others who were on cases like these, I'd have to agree. The main point of creating the taskf orce then is so that we don't have to have a new set of investigators adjust to thinking that way for each case." A smile twitched on Thawne's lips. "As such, whenever a case with unexplained elements comes along we'll have first dibs. However, in between cases, when the leads have dried up, or if we are waiting for test results to come back, we'll be on call for other cases as well."

Thawne glanced over his shoulder at the piles of paper on his desk. "Our mysterious arsonist hasn't struck in a while, and the fire investigators are finishing up looking over the previous burn site, so we would actually be in one of those times right now." Thawne narrowed his eyes in frustration. "Lucky me, I'm going to be in charge of coordinating these investigations and making sure everyone receives all the information. Since the task force is just starting, I have to sort out all the previous unsolved cases with interesting elements and catalogue them. I'm almost grateful that the arsonist is likely to strike again soon."

Barry's shoulders dropped. "As much as I am not excited about it, I should probably familiarize myself with those." Those folders would probably contain some intriguing facts and figures, but Barry guessed that they would be buried in routine analyses and bureaucratic fluff.

"You're free to join me," Thawne sighed, flipping through a couple pages.

"I don't even start work until tomorrow, so I'll have to pass for now." Barry smiled. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Good Luck."

Thawne rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll leave some for you."

Barry waved goodbye, but the other man was already so engrossed in his task that he didn't wave back. Having completed that introduction, Barry decided he'd swing by Julio and tell him the good news. The two friends and coworkers chatted idly for a bit. Julio explained how he'd rearranged things in the last year, at least on his half of the room, and noted that in patching the sunroof broken by the lightning, the department had finally fixed some of the lab's other leaks, so no more puddles on the floor during rainstorms. He mentioned some of his previous lab partner's quirks and personality traits.

Eventually the conversation turned to Barry's new position in the department, when Julio asked, "So, who'd Captain Frye put you under?"

"Actually, I am technically no longer an assistant," Barry smiled, before shrugging, "Unfortunately, all of my sudden trips out of town have come back to bite me in the ass, and I now have to check in with the task force liaison at the start of each day and send him a copy of everything I'm working on." Julio gave him a weird look. "What?"

"I don't know much about Thawne, but he seemed wound up tight when he first got here at least." Julio's expression went deadpan and wide eyed. "I was not thrilled when I heard I would be working with him."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows together. "He didn't seem too bad when I talked with him."

"Well, maybe you were just lucky, but let's hope he's learned to loosen up a little."

The conversation turned elsewhere from there, though Julio's comment certainly left Barry with something to think about. When Barry decided he should finally leave and stop distracting Julio further, his plan to grab groceries next finally came up. The offhand comment sent Julio frantically searching through his wallet, an action which in turn raised Barry's eyebrows. "I might be cringing at the bill, but I don't need you offering me money."

"It's not money, damn it!" Julio exclaimed before finally pulling a card out of one of the pockets. Barry then found a Big Lots card shoved into his face in a movement that would have been rather sudden if his friend weren't moving so slowly. "I don't use of this thing nearly as often as I should. The proportions are a bit big for me, but after watching you eat… just take it."

Barry hesitantly took the card. "Thanks?" He then glanced at the clock. "I should probably be heading off. See you tomorrow?"

Julio smiled. "Yeah. See you then."

**A/N:** This chapter obviously isn't as big of a milestone as its predecessor. In fact, it is called connections partly because it is the connective tissue between the first and second parts of this story. I hope you guys still enjoyed it.

The other reason it is called connections is because of the connections Barry has with these new characters I am introducing. By the way no major characters here. (Eyes dart back and forth _innocently_). What are you talking about? There was a character called Thawne in the comics? I know nothing about that (eyes continue to dart). Well, you can't always expect things to be as they seem, even if you have the inside scoop on the situation. (By the way, does anybody else love how the internet feels totally fine writing Cisco without quotations but nearly every site references Detective Thawne as "Eddie")

With regards to my feelings regarding the trailer for the Flash series, it would have been epic if I could have posted this right before or right after seeing that, but alas life, and I end up posting this a week later. Oh, well. In any case, I have too much to say about the trailer that I won't try to fit it all here. I will however say that the Barry on the show is lucky that he has somebody to tell him: your powers are safe; they are not going to kill you. My Barry will have to figure that out for himself.

I will reiterate that while I will make references to whats happening on the show, and my divergence from the show is not in any way a critique of it (I love what their doing), I will diverge from the show. I have had plans, and while I loved the show writer's plans, I also think my plans deserve the spotlight at least in my own story. Also, I am sometimes to lazy to change said plans as the Bi-Show unfolds.

On a finale note, I will continue to drop non-explicit X-files references. Maybe a sequel to this story will be a crossover.


	9. Chapter 8: Reflections

Sorry for not posting earlier. Only recently had regular access to a computer, and we'll see how long that lasts (stupid power cords). Anyways I hope you enjoy the chapter, which was beta'd by willow_oakwalker.

I have since originally posting it added two small conversations. These are not super important information wise, though hopefully they provide an enjoyable break from the chapter's otherwise dense feel.

**Chapter 8: Reflections**

Barry leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His lungs hurt. He wanted to both cough profusely to get any soot still in his system out and to breathe as shallow as possible in order to prevent his singed lungs from doing any more work than necessary. Cringing he lifted the water bottle he picked up at the evacuation site to his lips. His skin was pinker than usual and sensitive to touch. Barry hoped he would be able to avoid Julio for the rest of the day; he wouldn't be able to explain his condition to his friend. The feeling pushed its way forward trying to sooth him, and it felt as if energy rushed beneath his skin, though he honestly still felt like crap.

Glancing back down the street Barry saw the second story of the apartment burst into flames. Why couldn't it have been yesterday? Yesterday was relatively boring, but he had been productive, getting his stuff set up on his first day back to work. He hadn't been doing stupid things like running into a building he knew was going to burn down.

First thing yesterday he had checked in with Thawne and picked up two manila folders before heading to set up his half of the lab. Julio's previous labmate had had the oddest organization system, though Barry guessed he really shouldn't complain after seeing how the people at Queen Consolidated had stored their chemicals. If he had fallen into that rack instead of the one in his lab he would not have been in a coma; he would have been dead. The Wests probably would not have been able to have had an open case funeral.

In any case, now Barry and Julio were carrying things around the room. Mostly it was the smaller things to make sure Barry would be able to find them latter, but occasionally Barry and Julio decided that some piece of furniture would be more useful in a different location. However, Julio was adamant that a certain space would no longer have a shelf, and if it had to have a shelf the shelf would only have perfectly harmless pieces of equipment on it. Barry reminded his friend that the chances of a similar incident happening anywhere, let alone in the exact same spot, were slim, but Julio insisted that he wasn't going to tempt fate. Barry shook his head.

Meanwhile, he was doing a mental inventory, so he would know what experiments he could do regarding the safety of his new abilities. He had plenty of experiments planned out; planning was all he could do in order to assuage his fears the last two days of his hospital visit.

Barry generally did most of his pre-experiment brainstorming with paper and pencil instead of on the computer, so once he had gotten to thinking halfway straight about the experience, he had opened up a notebook to the first blank sheet and filled the top line with exclamation points. Having gotten that out of his system, he flipped through the medical paperwork and started jotting down ideas. Inspired by his outburst, though, whenever he wanted to mention the incident or the abilities, he used five exclamation points. Then, in order make a pattern, whenever he wanted to bring up his issues with perception, the same number of question marks appeared in his notes.

Barry knew this wasn't the most secure code; later he will needed to be able to understand what he wrote down, so if somebody looked through it they would be able to deduce some things. Even if they didn't know what object was moving, they might notice the units for velocity, meters per second, appearing on a few pages if they managed to read the minuscule print Barry had used in an attempt to hide them. An unauthorized reader might notice that he was particularly interested in the effects of something on muscle tissue. They would notice the chemicals arranged in two lists and that he was particularly interested in how the ones on one list could become the ones on the other mainly through the application of electricity.

In the end, Barry hoped that other people would be confused enough that they wouldn't discover how odd the things happening to him were. Perhaps they wouldn't even look too deeply into the jottings in the notebook. In the best case scenario, no one would look into the book to begin with.

Most of the experiments Barry had come up with involved, yet again, taking blood samples, but Barry wasn't going to take direct tissue samples out of his muscles to see if there had been any damage. He wasn't a corpse, at least not yet. Taking a direct tissue sample would cause more damage than it was worth. Blood alone could actually reveal a lot.

The main difference is that this time he would take the blood sample directly after using his new abilities so time would not erase the evidence. He could look for the body's response to injury in an attempt to detect any micro-injuries in his muscle or bone tissue, which he would not be able to detect himself. While he would have to take at least small samples from various points in his leg in case the micro-injury were slight and only left evidence in the tissue close to it, Barry guessed that if they were to occur they would either spread themselves throughout the muscle tissue or clump around the areas where the muscle attached to the bone, so a limited number of samples per use of the abilities would suffice. He could analyze the levels of the nutrients in the plasma and the oxygenation levels of the blood cells to see if his body could process the nutrients properly at those speeds. He would definitely keep his eyes open to see if he saw any other chemicals not noted in the medical reports. All of these blood samples, of course, would be supplemented with samples taken right before the using the ability and samples taken a while after any use of the ability as controls.

He had other experiments in mind that did not involve blood samples. For example, he wanted to try to reproduce the reactions that would have produced the chemicals in his system because none of the odd chemicals on the medical charts matched those on the sheet Julio had given him. This wouldn't necessarily tell him more about his abilities, but it would give him some idea about what had happened in his accident. And, once he could produce the chemicals, he would have an easier time studying them and discovering what role they might play in this.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to do any of those experiments now. It was one thing to use the department's lab supplies for personal research; it was another thing to do it while he was on the job. Moreover, he would have to do it while Julio wasn't around, so his labmate wouldn't ask too many questions. Considering Julio was always pestering Barry to get out of the lab, Barry doubted that would be a problem, but it was still something he would have to keep in mind.

Getting the lab set up had taken longer than expected, so it was already one in the afternoon when Barry decided to get lunch.

Walking to a nearby fast food chain Barry ordered enough food to go that the cashier thought he was ordering for his coworkers as well. In fact the only person with whom Barry had talked other than the people at the IT department, who only received his complaints due to connection problems with the department's wifi, were Julio and Thawne. Julio had eaten an hour earlier, having finished helping with rearrangement of the lab at 11, and Barry hadn't spoken with Thawne since picking up the two case files. Barry wasn't going to pester anybody to give him company during lunch, and even if the idea was appealing, he didn't have very many people to pester. Of the people at the department, the only ones he knew well were Julio, Daniel West, and Darryl Frye, and having lunch with father figures did not seem appealing.

As such, today Barry was planning on eating alone, but that didn't mean he didn't have to sit awkwardly in the corner of the fast food restaurant. Instead, he lead his feet back towards the department break room, dodging other pedestrians on the way. There at least he could feel a little connected with his coworkers. Like he could strike up conversation even if he wasn't actively doing it.

The trip back went by surprisingly smoothly, even though he had to work against traffic multiple times and he had been eating one of the sandwiches while walking. As a general rule, Barry's inherit clumsiness caused him to run into at least one person while attempting to get somewhere downtown, and the number increased proportionally with how desperately he needed to arrive at his destination. However, squeezing between two businessmen, Barry realized that he probably wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. People for one are easier to dodge when they are moving slower, and even if he maintained normal speeds, he still had more time than most to correct his course. Moreover, somebody who is bad on their feet couldn't maneuver between cars at super speed or jump and push off of an incoming vehicle to correct one's trajectory.

Barry added his sudden increase in coordination to the list of mysteries surrounding his new abilities.

After arriving at the department's break room, Barry scanned the area, noticing that only five people were eating, though two more were standing around conversing with them. This group hovered mainly around the vending machines and water coolers on the opposite side of the room. Barry had seen this configuration before, where people clustered around the snack dispensers, though people rarely used either device. It was as if the cluster was dictated by tradition or a subconscious desire to have the snacks immediately available in case the whim arose. Hence, the break room wasn't exactly a cafeteria, but this still left plenty of open tables at which Barry could sit. Pressing his lips together, Barry hesitated before making the safe choice by sitting in a corner and starting into the rest of his food.

Not surprisingly, food tastes better when your body is starved for calories, so while he ate rather quickly and the food was pretty cheap, he enjoyed the meal a lot. So much, somebody else pulling a chair up to the table at which he was eating barely registered, and only the person commenting "Big appetite?" called Barry's attention. He stopped mid-chew, blinked, then swallowed.

The man in front of him was large without being fat, had dark skin, and wore a friendly expression, smiling softly with relaxed eyes. Barry blinked again. "Um… yeah." He didn't know exactly what to say. He glanced around awkwardly.

The other man laughed before nodding back to the group by the vending machines. "My friends over there noticed and started talking about it, but nobody over there but me wanted to come over here and say hi." The man held his hand out over the table. "James Forrest."

"Barry Allen," Barry offered in return before taking another bite of his sandwich.

James Forrest's eyes narrowed. "The name sounds familiar, and I swear I've seen you around somewhere."

Barry quickly covered his mouth as he had to contain himself from laughing, and he didn't want to accidentally spray the man in front of him if he failed. Of course, something like this was going to happen, so why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Most people at the department didn't know him well, but it wasn't like he was completely unknown to the department. Various labs had to interact and share data, while CSI's and detectives often had to cooperate during investigations. As such Barry Allen had run into a number of people at the department over the years, yet having been gone for a whole year most of the people he didn't know well had probably forgotten his face.

Meanwhile James Forrest's expression went from thoughtful to confused, and the man leaned backwards. His eyes narrowed further, squinting at the edges, as he tried to figure out what it was he had missed. His lips straightened.

Once Barry was able to control his laughter, he quickly finished chewing and swallowed, so that he could explain the situation to the poor man in front of him. "Sorry. I just should have expected this. I believe Ms. Spivot introduced us at some point when I was working under her, but that was a while ago, and for the past year I… haven't exactly been awake."

At that point Forrest's eyes bulged open in realization. "So, you're the guy who went into a coma?" Forrest's mouth remained slightly ajar after the exclamation. Out of the corner of his eye, Barry noticed several people in the cluster glance in his direction.

Barry looked down, pressing his lips together in embarrassment. "Yes, that is me."

Forrest continued to gape. "Wow. Um…" Forrest pushed his eyebrows together. "Wow. Do you feel ok?"

Barry shrugged. "For the most part." And, it was true. Even though he was worried about what side effects his abilities might have, he currently wasn't _feeling_ any negative side-effects. In fact, ever since he'd recovered from the coma, he'd felt better than expected. Like he could repeat the feat from the hospital at any moment. To emphasize this point even when the physical therapist had pushed, he failed to at any point get physically tired. At first he fumbled occasionally, but the problem always involved balance and coordination rather than stamina. And, that problem seemed to have cleared up as well, which made sense because his brain had then been still recovering from the scrambling caused by the coma.

So long as the results regarding his abilities turned back good, he was fantastic. He smiled. "The doctors even said I recovered quicker than usual. The only problem so far is that something seems to be off with my metabolism" Barry held up his sandwich to pound in the point.

Forrest smiled back. "Well, that's good. Though are you sure you didn't go to the gym this morning or play a very intense sport. I didn't even know people could eat that much. Outside of, you know, food eating contests."

"Unfortunately, no," Barry sighed. This was getting uncomfortable. While he didn't mind the fact that he had been in a coma and his metabolism had gone wonky, but he didn't want that to be the only topic people talked about. His brain twisted a bit as it tried to find something to bring up. Well, might as well go with what was on his mind. "So, have you heard much about those recent fires?"

"Have I heard much? What haven't I heard?" Forrest smiled back shaking his head. "I assume you have heard what's been on the news?'

"Only a little bit," Barry admitted, "I've been busy enough getting settled back in, so I haven't had much of a chance to follow the stories." Another bite.

"Yeah, well, the media has been whipping everybody into panic. They've dubbed it a Heat Wave, and it doesn't help whenever Linda Park gets up in front of any of the burnt remains or questions the department for answers." Forrest grimaced. "If only we had any to give her or any of the other reporters that come knocking on our door. It's even gotten Director Signh all riled up. He practically had all of the investigators taking at least one shift on the case whether or not their specialty even resembled combustion. I heard that Captain Frye had a talk with him about that, though I didn't know whether that was to pat him on the back or talk some sense into him. Also, did you hear about the spooky Federal agents who came down here?"

Barry nodded, so Forrest wouldn't wait for him to swallow. Forrest leaned forward again, "Did the director finally decide it was your turn at the case? If so, I'm sorry. Patty's good, but she doesn't exactly train her assistants with this sort of thing in mind."

"Actually with all the weird things happening in Central City, Captain Frye wanted a semi-stable taskforce working on them. And, while I'd agree that fire isn't my specialty, you don't have to talk like working on it is the end of the world; it has some interesting elements."

Forrest shrugged. "Well, it's not my cup of tea."

"While what is your cup of tea then?" Barry smiled. "What are you working on now?" While department employees aren't allowed to leak the details of any cases to the public, between employees a good way to get somebody talking was to ask them about a case they were working on. They might love the case, or they might hate it, but they for sure had something to say about it. As such, Barry wouldn't have to worry about the topic of conversation drifting back to him for a while.

"You see, there was this double homicide down by the river a few days back…" And, the conversation continued until Barry had finished his lunch and decided to get back to work.

It was already two thirty when Barry finished his meal and said goodbye to Forrest, returning to the, as of yet, untouched manila folders sitting on his desk. Sighing, Barry decided he should probably focus on the one for the current case and take the other one, which described the mysterious freezing deaths in the middle of July, home with him.

Barry knew he wouldn't be able to contribute the most to the discussion of the arson itself. The study of fires requires an advanced knowledge of thermodynamics and combustible chemistry which did not match Barry's more general forensics background in biology and organic chemistry. But the file started with a sheet justifying its grouping with the other unexplained cases, and seven eighths of the sheet discussed how the fire shouldn't behave the way it did, how it didn't progress naturally for the temperatures it reached, how they couldn't figure out what the arsonist was using for the explosion. The other eighth of the sheet consisted of formalities: the introduction, the conclusion, ect.

Daniel West had been right; even the summary was rather technical and not nearly as dramatic as the case which rested farther back on his desk. But he should be glad he at least had something to do with the case because it was a confirmed arson. Not only would one have to understand how the fire started but one would also have to understand the person who was setting the buildings ablaze.

Barry's eyebrows raised, however, when he read why these fires were known to be arson let alone related: the arsonist was calling the fires in before they even happened. He would warn the department about what was going to happen, asking the department to help evacuate the building but to not interfere further. The building in question would then receive a similar call requesting that everyone leave the premises and proclaiming that he would rather not have to kill anyone to get what he wanted.

Barry sighed, reading on about the reasons why the department had so far been unable to use the forewarning to their advantage. For one, the calls were always made from a number located close to the building in question and not from a single source possibly owned by the arsonist. There did not appear to be any digital tampering with the lines, but unfortunately the delay in response created by the distance from a police station to the arson site meant that any attempts to physically encounter the arsonist on his end of the phone line proved futile. Perhaps somebody could use voice recognition on the calls to narrow down the suspects, but according to the report the voice on the other end was muffled, and after listening to a recording Barry had to agree. The criminal psychologists such as the one from the FBI might be able to get something out of it, but Barry didn't find it very useful.

Attempts to prevent the buildings from catching fire to begin with were not more successful. The arsonist for one did not give the police much time to act. The calls came at most 45 minutes before the burn; most came between fifteen and thirty minutes. Enough time for the police to show up on the scene, but not enough time to do much except organize and aid the building's occupants.

Moreover, while the arsonist seemed to tolerate one or two officers entering the building to aid in evacuation, the person did not tolerate large numbers of officers storming the building. One time the department had a team ready to search the building for explosives, but as soon as they had entered the building, it had ignited and in an even more spectacular fashion. than otherwise While the arsonist claimed not to prefer not killing, he obviously didn't seem too averse to killing if somebody threatened his plans.

Therefore, after the next burn it would be Barry's job to come in and see if any evidence as to who this person was survived the burn, and, if not, at least offer another perspective.

Barry grimaced. It was unlikely that any evidence would survive, but he hoped sorely that some did. It would make the department that much closer to stopping the arsonist. Barry would also feel that much more useful to the investigation once they arrived at the burn site. Moreover, if some evidence were to survive, he would have something to do on the case after visiting the burn site. Otherwise he would then be assigned to other cases between burns, and while there wasn't anything wrong with other cases, one's allowed to have preferences in life.

Well, even if he would have to submit to the fire investigator's expertise, he might as well brush up on their findings so far. That way he could hold an intelligent conversation with them.

Flipping through the documents, Barry found a sheet cataloging the various burns. It noted the building in question and a few facts about it such as its address, the square footage, and number of stories, along with a few important facts about the burn such as the date and the estimated maximum temperature reached. Most importantly, because the department knew where and when a burn was going to occur, investigators had been able to take videos of the fires from their ignition to their dying embers for future analysis. The sheet mentioned how the videos were stored in the department's computer network.

Barry opened his laptop and flipped through the videos.

They would allow him to see how the fire spread throughout the building, especially because burned structures can be deceptive as to where the fire started and how it. As a blaze evolves, areas away from the ignition site might get hotter or burn longer than the initial area and thus leave more intense char marks. In an experiment, the success rate fire instigators had for identifying the portion of a room in which a fire started was startlingly low. As in below the rate predicted if the investigators walked in and chose a portion of the room randomly.

The first videos didn't show any helpful pattern. The buildings then were smaller then, mostly large houses which grew in size as the arsonist advanced, and they seemed to burst into flames all at once with no particular point of ignition. It didn't even look like an explosion had carried the he heat throughout the building. Barry watched the videos closely hoping to find a hint of the blast that would accompany such an event, but all he caught was perhaps a gust of wind that could have been just a part of the weather that day. There were no sudden blasts. No flashes of light.

One could perhaps explain this if the arsonist had laced the structures with an accelerant. Though that would require access to the building's premises and, for some of the larger structures, take a decent amount of time, according to the file searches turned up nobody with connections with all the buildings. The arsonist seemed to choose his structures at random or, at best, based on their ability to burn, without any close connections to the buildings in question.

Moreover, the first time that Barry had watched one of the videos he had narrowed his eyes. Barry was not an expert on fires, but while the temperatures certainly appeared high enough to fry anything inside, it didn't look like they were reaching the astonishing levels depicted in the reports. This cooler fire worked its way with the building for minutes. And minutes. A quarter of an hour passed, then a half an hour.

Then suddenly the building exploded.

Weird. Shouldn't the heat from the previous fire have set off any explosives earlier? Maybe there had been an insulator around the explosives, so they could go off when the arsonists wanted, but why would the arsonist do that? Why the wait?

Then, as Barry continued through the videos, the pattern repeated itself. The whole building would burst into flames and burn for a while, the duration getting longer as the buildings got bigger. Fire crews would work to keep the flames down, but not long after they would manage to put some part of the structure out, the flames would rush back out and reclaim the area. And, just as suddenly each time, the building would explode. A bright light would shine out through the windows and doors before they flew outward onto the lawn. Often a portion of the structure would collapse, if not that instant, then a moment later. The videos did not include sound but Barry could still hear the blasts each time.

Barry flipped through the report. Apparently the fire experts were just as confused, if not more so, than he was regarding the pattern of slow burns then bright explosions. They listed the reasons why should be impossible and why even if it were possible it would be impractical. Today's technology just wasn't there.

After a few videos of this sort, the arsonist eventually moved on. The buildings increased in size to the point where his simultaneous ignition trick reached its limit. He could make a good portion of a building burst into flames at once but not the whole structure.

The types of buildings also became more varied, including business complexes and warehouses. Barry guessed this was because the arsonist simply wanted a larger fire to admire, and they didn't want to try to keep on tracking down sufficiently big houses. The arsonist even seemed to look for a bit of a challenge every once and a while, choosing buildings made of brick or stone where most of the fuel would come from wooden furniture or frames. Still, the arsonist's care and control remained. The arsonist still called ahead of time to give a chance for evacuation; they even seemed to choose somewhat isolated buildings so the fire might not leap to the surrounding structures. This person might be a pyromaniac, but they also wanted to keep the situation under control.

Barry raised his eyebrows. Why would someone who wanted control pick fire, of all things, to obsess over?

Barry continued to watch the videos and another pattern appeared. For vertical buildings, the cooler fires would start on the first floor and work their way up in tell-tale bursts. However, once a building had multiple floors, the huge delay would not be between the large explosions but rather between the fire's march up the building. After the fire reached the top floor, a series of explosions would work their way down the building in quick succession. For buildings with a greater horizontal spread, the fires would move quickly around the building's edges. News footage taken by helicopter during the burn of one of the most sprawling buildings revealed that the building's center remained untouched for some time, before a blast finally rocked that portion of the building, and then other explosions slowly spiraled outward from there.

Barry found the arsonist's ability to hold the fire at bay even more suspicious than what happened with the smaller buildings. Insulating a small but high powered explosive was conceivable. Perhaps the fire experts didn't think the arsonist should be able to do it or at least shouldn't be able to do it easily, but Barry figured that if the arsonist had access to the right resources and wanted to control the timing of the second blast badly enough they could do it. Not that Barry would know why, but the arsonist could.

However, keeping the whole fire under control is a completely different story. A method for containing fires would revolutionize firefighting and would make the news, and Barry hadn't exactly read about such an innovation while he was catching up on the previous year's scientific advances. Moreover, something that big would be in development for a long time as it grew from a possibility hinted at in some scientific experiment to a proven possibility, through several prototypes where the kinks provided by real life were worked out, ending in a final product which wouldn't even be commercially available, at least to most people. Barry was only out a year, and the fire investigators who were up to date on the latest discoveries and inventions were also scratching their heads.

Barry laughed. Detective West hadn't mentioned the best part of the case.

Barry didn't blame him. His father figure wasn't working the case. Though a few newscasters following the fires had noticed things, and the department's spokesperson had never lied in the reels Barry had seen while in the hospital, the department was not going to advertise how little they knew. People were probably panicking too much already.

"Getting your way through that thing?"

Barry blinked, before glancing over at Julio, who was looking at him expectantly. "Perhaps. Still a little early to tell."

Julio nodded. "I feel ya. Took me a good portion of yesterday to work through it. If anything the previous investigators were thorough."

"Well, that's good," Barry smiled weakly, tapered by his knowledge that his friend was warning that the material was dense and would be a hard read. "Maybe we can come up with some ideas with just the report instead of having to wait until there's another burn."

"Maybe," Julio said lounging back in his chair. After a moment he turned towards Barry and cocked his head, "So, what part have you gotten to?"

"I had been watching the videos so far. 'Just about to dig into the actual report."

Julio laughed throwing his hands in the air. "You're not supposed to skip straight to the juicy part. Cheater."

"That wasn't how I planned it," Barry protested. "I wanted to get a feel for what the burns were like before I delved into the technical details. Plus, how can you cheat in reading a case report?"

"Don't ask me. I didn't know it was possible until you just managed to do it," Julio prodded. He glanced at the clock. It was already 4:00. "Well Barry, are you going to resume your old habits of staying here until ridiculous hours or will you actually go home on time for once."

"I'm going to stay here until I'm done reading this, however long that takes." To do that properly would probably take close to two hours at which point Julio would have gone home, and he would be able to do as he pleased. "Why are you asking now? We still have another hour left of work." Julio might not go out of his way to stay at work, but he was no slacker waiting desperately for the clock to strike five.

"I've got some paperwork I have to deliver for cleaning up my old cases. I probably won't be coming back to the lab." And with that Julio started gathering his stuff and preparing to head for the door.

"Bye."

Julio made it to the door frame, saying a quick "good bye" before leaving the room.

Barry glanced back at the papers and videos in front of him. Still, nothing clicked, so Barry flipped through the rest of the report then rewatched the videos paying particular attention to the latest ones. Often subtle but useful patterns don't become apparent on the first run through, when the viewer's eyes were too busy deciding what had been put in front of them.

At first, nothing. Oh, the report had useful information for sure, things he would have to keep in mind when coming up new hypotheses, but they didn't provide a good bouncing board for producing said hypotheses. For example, it provided plenty of raw data regarding what he saw in the videos: estimates on the maximum temperatures reached, charring patterns within the buildings, bullshit guesses about which rooms the explosive devices had been planted in, and chemical analyses of the buildings' remains which ultimately revealed nothing. Most of the time these just reinforced what he had seen and would probably mean more if he specialized in thermodynamics. Sometimes his eyes would widen at a figure; his initial guesses at the temperatures were apparently too low. Yet that didn't help him formulate any new ideas.

The most interesting feature was the psychological profile, but unfortunately that was even more outside of his range of expertise than thermodynamics and combustible chemistry. Still Barry enjoyed reading how the arsonist probably thrived on the fire itself and in the challenge of producing and controlling it. That the arsonist probably watched the fires he created from close by. How the arsonist might not be able to continue with isolated targets as they searched for larger more difficult challenges, despite their dislike for harming human life.

Looking through the videos at first didn't give him any ideas either, but then on the third video Barry's eyebrow's shot up. Well, that was an idea.

He'd mentioned the possibility of somebody with a flamethrower during his conversation with Daniel at the hospital, but he hadn't had the figures in front of him then. In addition, he'd been just throwing ideas out there without the idea that he'd actually have to test them in order to make conversation with a father figure, and admittedly he'd also been a little out of it, having just woken up from the coma. He wasn't expecting one of his ideas to stick.

Watching the fires move, he could almost imagine somebody walking through the building. They blocked the exits so they could have their way with the rest of the building, before lighting another then section on fire. Once the arsonist had had their fill of the fire or had gotten bored of the flames, they would set off the final spectacle moving from area and area in order to savor the building's, and the blaze's, last moments. Being that close to the fire might give the arsonist more control. They could lay down accelerant throughout the floor they wanted to ignite. However they were stopping the fire, it would make sense that they would use retardant, which would require a similar treatment. According to the psychological analysis, the arsonist would want to be as close as possible to the fire, and you can't get much closer than in the middle of it.

Only the arsonist would probably burn themselves alive.

On one hand, Barry had always taken pointing out the hypotheses people were less willing to accept as his unofficial job, and now Captain Frye had practically made it his official job as well.

On the other hand, Barry typically had a little more evidence to support his claims. He chose the claims because most people wouldn't consider them as seriously as they deserved, but Barry wanted others to take him seriously even if they didn't agree with him. Proclaiming this to his new supervisor probably would not make the best impression. Moreover, Barry knew that without evidence his ideas didn't just sound crazy; they were crazy.

For example, at Queen consolidated one could see the attacker's grip on the guard's neck so easily in the bruising that Barry had practically done a double take when he first saw it. Moreover, the bruises were concentrated in the front of the neck. Therefore, not a strangle hold which would apply pressure on the sides of the windpipe. The bruising around this largest clump was not symmetrical, as one would expect if the attacker was pushing forward with two hands; in fact, Barry could make out one projection as a thumb and several lines of darker purple to the right of the large patch hinted at the points of contact between the guard's skin and the attacker's fingers. A few purple rings at the end of these lines showed the attacker had not merely pushed forward on the guard's neck but had gripped the guard's neck – Barry had squinted at the patterns – perhaps lifting upward.

Hm. Barry had raised his eyebrows. Trying to take on a guard with only one hand seemed pretty gutsy, but then again this guy was breaking into a major company's warehouse.

Then, Barry had noticed the broken neck and his jaw had dropped. Damn. At that moment, not only did Barry have a hunch that the case was weird, but he had also had hard evidence to prove it.

As he had walked onto the crime scene, he only gathered more information. He had seen the way the stolen goods had been ripped from the warehouse's floor, metal supports twisted from the pull. Barry had already read about it in the initial report and had compiled an initial list of guesses for what was stolen, but it was far more impressive in person. Squatting to get a better look at the stolen object's base, Barry had shuffled through his list of guesses, comparing them with the scene in front of him before checking the options that remained with their product profiles on the industry websites. Definitely a centrifuge. Barry had glanced between the models on the Kord Industries' website and had looked back at the object's base. A rather large one at that.

Barry then had run his fingers just over the base, careful not to touch it and disturb the crime scene. While most of the centrifuge was obviously missing, Barry still had needed to get an idea of what the perpetrators of the act had been confronted with. Barry's hand passed over some nuts and bolts. They looked like something had put them under significant pressure. Yet, instead of coming from above the pressure had come from below; a small gap existed between the nuts and the base, and the downward sides of the nuts were slightly deformed. Not only had the base been pulled upward with great force, but if the perpetrators had been patient, they could have moved the centrifuge without so much force. Another hint at the strength of the perpetrators.

Barry had then glanced around and noticed the footprint shaped cracks on the floor before he had glanced at the steel door which had been knocked from its hinges. The dents culminated in areas of smoothness about the size of human hands. Make that one perpetrator.

At that point Barry finally felt comfortable walking over to the officer and CEO and providing his case, though he had wished he had arrived earlier, that the train hadn't been late and that the taxi driver had believed him about his appointment. Still, at these crime scenes, he only had the authority of his analysis, so he wouldn't sacrifice his quick look over the scene for anything, not even having Oliver Queen take back his snarky comments. In the end, the evidence had paid off. Though Officer Lance and Oliver Queen had still dismissed him, Felicity Smoak had believed his contributions were valuable enough that she had brought him onto Queen Consolidated's internal investigation and later trusted him with Oliver Queen's life.

He couldn't pull that off with the evidence he had now. What he had now was a weird hunch, and if he told it to anyone in serious, their opinion of him would fall not rise.

Worse, it didn't even look like he was going to pick up more evidence at the next burn site, like he had managed to do at Queen Consolidated. What was he going to do? Pull a fingerprint out of the ashes? Barry glared at the reports and the computer screen, sighing. He guessed he could take samples around the spaces linking floors, if those were still identifiable, in order to see if any fire retardant had survived. He could probably suggest setting up a perimeter around the building with the justification that the arsonist is probably close by. Considering the arsonist didn't mind one or two officers entering the building and Barry wasn't even a uniform, he could probably volunteer to aid the evacuation efforts in the hope that he might notice something.

At this point, Barry was planning to call it a night soon, at least for his job. Julio had left thirty minutes ago, so Barry was hoping to get started on the experiments which would determine whether his new abilities were safe or not. He could at least measure out the samples of the chemicals which had been on the rack taking extra of those he had calculated were primarily responsible for the new chemicals in his body. Taking the blood samples before and after using the abilities might take too long for tonight, but he could at least set aside the needles and the small plastic containers for storing the samples.

Then, he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," Barry called back, setting aside the reports and turning his chair around.

Daniel West entered the lab and to within conversation distance of Barry. He wore an amused smile and a raised eyebrow and had his arms folded over his chest. "So, you are still here."

Barry laughed. "Just finishing up looking over the arson file. Gotta be prepared for if they actually want me to contribute ideas at the next burn site," Barry tilted his head smiling, "with me being on the new task force and all." Barry wasn't mentioning this to inform Daniel about the appointment. After his meeting with Darryl yesterday, he had swung by Daniel's office and upon discovering him not there he'd left a message on the older man's phone. After work Daniel had called Barry to congratulate him, and apparently Frye had also decided to notify his old friend. Needless to say Daniel West was very well informed about the situation. No. Barry was mentioning it because he was just too excited an honored by the appointment not to mention it.

"Already close to finishing up that file?" Daniel gestured at the thick manila folder on Barry's desk, which wasn't even completely full because some of its contents still littered Barry's work space. "Looks like you're making good progress."

"Not as much as I'd like." Barry sighed. "All I have is a hunch that the idea I mentioned to you in the hospital might be might be right, that there might be somebody inside that fire. But, I have no idea what I would be looking for at the next burn site. Most of the evidence was probably destroyed by the fire." Barry breathed out before pressing his lips together and glaring at the manila folder behind him. "It's frustrating."

Daniel let out a deep laugh. "Welcome to life, but don' be too hard on yourself. You haven't even visited one of these burn sites, so you don't yet know whether it will lack anything useful. Plus, most people, including myself, would dismiss that hunch. Perhaps if you follow it, it will lead you to something everyone else overlooked."

Barry shrugged. "Perhaps. I still feel like I should be able to do more, though. Like I at least should be able to contribute something to get us one step close to catching this guy."

Daniel took a step close and put his hand on Barry's shoulder. "Don't take it personally, son. There's a reason Darryl made a task force for these sorts of things: they've left most of us stumped. He wants to make sure that the people working on these things will be able to think long and hard about them. You've been back for one day. Don't be surprised that you don't have the whole thing figured out.

"Moreover, though I haven't worked personally with these, I've seen the signs that this is a particularly hard case. Remember those other cases I told you about, which kept on dissipating before we could get any leads?" Barry nodded. One of them was in his computer case to take home with him. "Well, they only seemed to disappear just as the detective's assigned to them were getting close. It's been a real morale crusher for the whole department. Well, those only lasted around two weeks each. I can't say for certain that this case is like those, but my gut says it is, and it's been going for a month."

"I guess you're right," Barry responded, though he still deflated.

He had gotten used to the fact that the important leads are not always immediately apparent when working previous cases. He had also gotten used to the fact that weird cases are not always as promising as they first seem. Still, that didn't prevent Barry's hopes from getting up. He had needed to be hopeful rather than pessimistic when searching out a case with unexplained elements, otherwise he would play things too skeptically and never leave town to explore the crime scenes. Therefore, he had never gotten fully in the habit of pessimism, and when the Central City Police Department had actually decided to label some cases as unexplained and thought that having somebody who believed in such things was valuable… well, Barry's hopes had flown against his better judgment.

"Still," Daniel patted Barry on the back one more time before stepping back, "that does mean that figuring this case out will be a big step towards getting back in Darryl's good graces. He might still consider you a good kid, but he was not exactly pleased when you not only didn't come back from Starling but had been ditching work before hand as well."

"Yeah, I'm fairly certain I'm not allowed to leave the city without telling him now." Barry gave half a laugh. "So, no pressure." The two men shrugged in unison at the thought, before sitting in silence for half a moment. "Why exactly did you originally come down here again?"

Daniel's eyes locked with Barry's. "Darryl and I both agreed that you should go home on time tonight. You may have been out of the coma for a week, but you were in it for ten months, and the doctors still can't figure out what happened to your metabolism. You still need to rest."

Barry almost made an argument then and there that he felt perfectly fine and that he had enough time to recover. If he had already told Daniel about his new abilities, he would have said that he felt great and better than he did before the coma. Furthermore, the only way to find out if he did have any medical issues which would require rest was ironically to stay in the lab and work. But, it didn't come to that. Barry might have had the energy to argue with Daniel, but he didn't have the will to put up a fight with Darryl, the person whose trust Barry needed to win back.

So, instead Barry simply rolled his eyes. "And my new supervisor didn't want to be the one to tell me this?"

"Oh, no," Daniel again wore his amused smile. "I had to fight tooth and nail with him. First to be the one to tell you, and second so I could have a private conversation with you that he wouldn't interrupt."

Barry's eyebrows raised. Thawne certainly was taking his new job very seriously.

He then turned back to his desk and gathered his things. "Everyone seems so eager to tell me to go home. Perhaps I should do that." Daniel nodded quickly as if to say that Barry didn't have much choice in the matter before leaving. Well, the day might have been frustrating and while Barry didn't feel like he had made much progress, he knew that he had actually gotten a lot done. He would have needed to set up his lab at some point, and he would have needed to read the file before analyzing the next site, even if it didn't give him any good ideas. Still, if Barry had gotten to setting up the experiments he would have felt a little bit more peace of mind.

The next day Barry would curse the thoughts which wanted something exciting to happen. They had obviously jinxed things.

**A/N:** Hello! I'm back, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter, which can also be referred to as flashback-ception. Seriously, it is mostly one big flashback with two smaller flashbacks within it. But, that is how the story wanted to be told, and I wasn't going to argue with it. Moreover, the notebook might play an important role in two years time when a certain someone starts looking into his uncles condition.

On a further note, I am currently doing a research program, so I won't have as much spare time as I did earlier. Moreover, because more is happening in each chapter, they require more words, and it looks like each one will be gobbling up 5 thousand at least. As such, while before I at least tried to post within two weeks of publishing my last chapter, that is beginning to look less likely, and it might take up to 3 weeks instead (averaging 250 words a night will let me finish a 5 thousand word chapter in 20 days, and 5 thousand was my minimum). I will however look into typing up more than 250 a night at least on the weekends. If you ever are wondering about my progress towards the next chapter, I tend to keep my profile fairly well updated on that regard.

Also, thank you to the guest Shay Shay who has reviewed two chapters of this story so far. I typically private message reviewers, saying thank you and answering any questions they might have, but because you are a guest. I have not been able to do that.

I would also like to thank everyone else who has given me feedback on this work from the reviewers here to my betas to my parents. The response so far has been more positive than I could hope for. I originally started this as the least complicated of three story ideas hovering around my brain during winter break as a way to get me writing again. Then, of course, the story got pushy and instead of being the thousand words per chapter warm up I was anticipating it turned into this, and suddenly my parents were reading and enjoying it, I had a friend who doesn't watch Arrow beta-ing it, and I was getting into arguments with the speed force. While I am writing this mainly for me, it has always been nice that other people are enjoying it as well. Gracias y спасибо.


	10. Chapter 9: Foresight

Sorry, but not sorry about taking so long to post because the delay resulted only from this chapter's length and waiting for beta comments, which this chapter were provided by my parents. Moreover, I gave an estimate of tree weeks without beta reading for the a five thousand word chapter, and this is double that, and unfortunately the next chapter isn't going to be a short one either. I do hope that this chapter was worth the wait though.

Also, I've added some small pieces to the previous chapter to make it more readable, though they are not necessary information wise if you have already read chapter 8.

**Chapter 9: Foresight**

Barry's second day of work started as even more plainly than his first because this time he didn't have to worry about moving in. Moreover, while he may have slightly more freedom as a full-fledged CSI along with the larger salary, his routine from before the coma would still apply with only slight alterations such as eating four bowls of cereal instead of one and reporting into Thawne instead of Patty Spivot at the start of the day. So, Barry ate his breakfast and took the first section of the light rail to work, glad that at least one piece of his life was returning to normal. This way he would able to choose which weird aspects of the world he would focus on.

While at work, that aspect of the world would be the unexplainable cases and more particularly the arsons. However, there was only so much Barry could do about it until another fire ignited. Though Barry wasn't going to wish for the arsonist to strike sooner, he had already read the reports, so what he needed now was to actually visit a burn site and get a feel for it beyond the report's technical descriptions. He also wanted to run some tests the previous CSIs hadn't considered, but again he couldn't do that until the arsonist struck again.

At the same time, the weird aspect of the world that would concern him outside of work was far more pressing: he needed to figure out what was happening with his body and whether these changes were safe. Not only did this issue involve his own health, but until he figured this out, he would probably also be a little distracted while investigating the arsons.

Furthermore Barry was beginning to realize just how cool these new abilities would be if they were safe. For one, they were far less menacing now that the initial shock had worn off. Time had passed. The world had not ended. Barry had not died. Perhaps the abilities weren't that bad after all. Just as he had slipped into speaking slowly out of habit and no longer blinked twice at how much he had to eat, he was coming to accept that he could at any point reach out and adjust his own speed. Cleaning his apartment and a few practice tests where he completed some small task a little faster demonstrated that he didn't have to lose himself to the abilities. He could still be in control of his own body, of his own mind.

Barry smiled, knowing that Iris would lecture him if he said that out loud. A lot of the control people think they have is an illusion, but after suddenly finding his plans change and running back to the hospital, Barry decided that it was an illusion he rather liked.

As Barry stopped worrying about the potential side effects, he could then appreciate some of the benefits. For example, waiting for his switch off at Waid Street Station he was seriously considering running to work if the test results came back safe. Considering how quickly he remembered darting between the cars, it would probably get him there faster. Well… there was still the turning issue. As much as Barry was surprised at how well pushing off the car turned out, his commute did involve several turns, and he didn't exactly want to leave his footprints on every car in Central City. Moreover, if the cars were moving perpendicular to his direction of travel, the forces wouldn't line up correctly to pull that off. He'd have to pull over to the sidewalk and wait for the light to change like everybody else. Still, considering how unreliable the light rail could be, it wouldn't add that much time.

The train arrived, and Barry boarded, shaking his head. Even though he was slowly accepting his new abilities, such thoughts still weirded him out. It was _his_ legs that would be achieving these seemingly impossible feats, and he still had no idea how his brain and muscles were pulling it off let alone whether or not there would a way to turn quicker.

As Barry chose one of the train's seats, a thought came up from earlier. If this were in some form of fiction, his abilities would be labeled super powers. He didn't want to use that term here because it both called attention to how freaky everything was and admitted that there might not be a good explanation for what was going on. Yet, it still made him a bit giddy; he'd always been a bit of a comic book nerd. On top of that, he had the same ability, or at least the same type of ability, as one of his favorite heroes, The Flash. Barry smiled. While The Flash might be fictional, Barry would rather think of the comic book character in relation to his abilities than his mother's murderer.

Unfortunately, all of these benefits depended on the abilities being safe, though with each passing day that seemed more likely. Therefore, while he wasn't going to be paranoid and forbid the use of the abilities at all, he was still nervous about tapping into them too deeply. It was this nervousness that held him back as he did the practice tests the previous night.

Eventually the train stopped, and Barry disembarked before making the short walk to the department. Glancing at his watch Barry scowled, trying to balance his want to go faster with his will to not do anything stupid. The unreliability of the light rail service was making Barry consider running to work whether or not the abilities proved safe. With rushed footsteps, he veered away from the sea of cubicles and headed to his lab room to drop off his stuff before going to check in with Thawne.

Barry raised an eyebrow when he noticed Julio leaning against the outside of Thawne's cubicle with a bored expression. Once Julio noticed his friend's approach he shrugged, "Is anyone surprised Barry Allen is fifteen minutes late to work?"

Continuing his march to Thawne's office, Barry quickly rose a finger in retaliation. "My first train was late and my second train early enough that I missed it and had to wait twenty minutes for the 8:50 at Waid Street." At this point, he had reached Thawne's office and could see Thawne's eyes go wide with skepticism. Barry threw his hands outward in frustration. "No lies!"

Thawne maintained his skeptical expression while he slowly turned his eyes to Julio questioningly. Julio in turn explained. "I have heard a number of crazy excuses come of Barry's mouth with regards to being late. The only thing crazier is that they are nearly always true." Julio gave a little smile. "And, I've checked before. Barry does have a suspiciously short time to make the switch off between trains, and while the light rail is rarely early, it can happen. While I might joke about him being late, I've learned not to blame him for it."

An eyebrow twitched, not entirely convinced. "Why don't you take some other form of transportation then?"

Barry shook his head. "It never seems to work. Every time I borrow someone's car, there's a traffic jam, and don't get me started on taxis. As soon as I get into one, the driver seems to forget what to do. Either that or I just attract particularly incompetent taxi drivers." He sighed. In fact after several times of this occurring, Barry had bought a traffic app despite the fact that he didn't even own a car or even have frequent access to one. The only times he could break it out was when he needed to hop in a taxi. The only problem then was convincing taxi drivers who thought they knew how to do their job that this time they really should listen to him. Needless to say that was typically a difficult and fruitless task. "But, I'm typically only five minutes late not fifteen."

Glancing between Julio and Thawne though, Barry decided it was time to change the topic of conversation away from his curse, especially because it didn't seem like he could get Thawne on his side. He turned towards Julio, "I doubt that's the reason you're here, so… what's going on?" Barry glanced over at Thawne then back at his friend. That question had, at least to Barry, been the elephant in the room since he arrived. Fifteen minutes was enough for a slap on the wrist, but he highly doubted Thawne would come searching for him at that point. Julio had even less reason to raise an alarm because he had already gotten used to his coworker's habits.

Thawne decided to answer the question. "Considering the taskforce is just getting up and running with its first case, I figured I should check in with both of you to see how things were going, if you two had any ideas."

Thawne then gestured outwards, immediately putting pressure on the two CSIs to fill the silence. Barry swallowed and glanced at Julio, not wanting to be the one to lead the conversation because even he thought his own ideas were crazy.

Fortunately, Julio was more than willing to oblige and started, "Ok, so we can't figure out what technology the arsonist is using to contain and ignite the fires, so it's probably state of the art, patent pending or not even submitted yet. Whoever is pulling this off would have to have access to that technology, which requires both expertise and money. I would also guess that with the limited time frame which the arsonist has to set up, that we might not be looking at just one perpetrator. Most of the bodies from previous burns have been identified, but I'd like to go over the two that haven't just to see if there is a chance that one of those is from this group."

Barry pressed his lips together at the mention of the few unidentified bodies. Barry saw a cringe flicker over Thawne's features as well, but it passed so quickly that even with his faster perception Barry almost missed it.

Most of the deaths related to the fires occurred at the Brickwood Street incident, when the cops had rushed into the building in an attempt to find the explosives, but once charred remains turned up at one of the other burn sites. It looked like somebody hadn't received the notice or at least not in time to get out the front door before the first floor had erupted. Even the arsonist had sounded angry that somebody had died unnecessarily and had urged the police to do their jobs better when he left his next message. The arsonist even requested that more cops assist in evacuation, though he also warned the department not to get any ideas.

"Point is pulling this off must be difficult, which would limit the range of people who could do this, and even among those, whoever is doing this is probably walking a fine line, and they probably occasionally cross it." Julio fumbled his hands. "Still, without getting a fresh look at a burn site myself, there's only so much more I can say than the reports."

Thawne nodded. "I wasn't expecting anything major at this point anyways, so that's fine especially because what you've got seems like a legitimate line of inquiry." The detective blinked, taking half a moment to gather his thoughts. "Other than examining the unidentified bodies that doesn't sound like lab work, so would you mind if I sent that over to someone else while you… examine?"

Julio shrugged. "Sounds fine to me, though it probably won't take long because the bodies have already been processed once. I'll probably head down to help shift through the information after that."

"I should probably help with the bodies," Barry piped up causing Thawne to raise an eyebrow expectantly. "All of the forensics people in the department are required to have a wide base so that they never get stuck without a job to do, but we all gravitate towards various specialties. I lean closer towards biology than Julio, so it would make sense for me to work on identifying remains." Barry shrugged. "Plus, I didn't have any better ideas of things to do until the next fire happens, unless Julio and I wanted to take a field trip to the previous site."

"A little late for that," Thawne laughed. "The forensics who were on it released it yesterday, so it's been at the pickings of the company and their insurance agents for a whole night, and in recent years Wayne Tech has been nothing if not efficient. I wouldn't suggest going there on department hours."

Julio turned to Barry, "Maybe we could head there after work. It would be a good idea to get a feel for one of these places. 'might give us ideas." Barry rolled his eyes. This probably was not a good idea because suddenly Julio's eyes were glistening and a smile rolled across his face. "Barry doesn't want to throw himself into work after hours. What on earth does Barry Allen have planned that would make him not want to stay late? It couldn't be a life. We already know he doesn't have one of those."

"Oh, please," Barry rolled his lips before looking Julio straight in the eye. "I may not have much of a social life, Julio, but it exists, and I have almost a whole year's worth of catching up to do. Otherwise, yes, I would go visit arson sites with you after work." It was a convincing excuse, or at least Barry hoped it sounded convincing, though Julio was still shaking his head in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Thawne did not look so amused. The detective was staring blankly between the two CSI's before he took a deep breath and stated, "You two can do whatever you want when the department is not paying you, but back on topic please." Julio perked back to attention, and Barry glanced back at the detective. "Ok, Barry, you said you didn't have any ideas for things to do until the arsonist strikes again, but did you have any ideas in general?"

Barry took a deep breath. How exactly was he going to say this again? He had to say something, but he also didn't want to say too much of his hunch that he sounded crazy. Immediately Barry's mind shot forward weighing possible ways of phrasing things. How far did he have to portray the arsonist as being from the fire to be considered sane without being so far that his point fell short? Was there any way to reference the interesting way the fire spread throughout the buildings without saying that it seemed like someone walking around inside. Except Barry's thoughts weren't actually going forward; they were going in circles until he felt Thawne's and Julio's eyes on him. Suddenly Barry lost his train of thought. Not as much time had passed for them as had for him, but Barry couldn't wait forever planning out what he was going to say. He had to start saying something. He had to move forward. The world seemed to pause a moment as Barry's mind changed gears. He swallowed.

"While I understand and agree Julio's line of thought, my own actually went in the completely opposite direction. We should probably just explore both directions to cover more ground intellectually," Barry shrugged lightly at least having gotten that out of the way. It would be really awkward having volunteered to help Julio with his ideas when he was about to suggest a mutually exclusive option without clearing that up.

"The idea of one person committing the arsons does not provide the best explanation for how the arsons are being executed with such precision, as Julio just mentioned," Barry gestured towards his lab mate. "However, it does provide the best explanation for how they are picking their targets. There's no pattern between the arsonist's chosen buildings. It looks like he changed from residential housing to business complexes for the sheer purpose of size, and even within those categories, little stands out. The arsonist chose houses from completely different neighborhoods, and buildings relating to completely different companies. There isn't even a sign of malicious intent, judging by the phone calls. What would hold a group together? While I'm not an expert in criminal psychology myself, the FBI profile's hypothesis of a single pyromaniac makes more sense to me," Barry deflated, "assuming the single pyromaniac could pull this off.

"Given that idea, one would suspect the arsonist to stay relatively close to the fire. I mean, he's not trying to just destroy something and get away then; the fire is his end goal. He probably wants to stay and admire it. Moreover, keeping the fire in eyesight would help in controlling it. Perhaps there's some visual cue the arsonist takes for discharging the next explosive, or whatever he is using because those don't follow the typical pattern for explosions." Barry took a breath getting his mind back on track. "Anyways, the arsonist could also delay a blast, or whatever he uses, if the fire is burning harder than expected when he originally planned to set it off. It would help explain some of the control he has, and he seems to get a kick out of making these things last forever."

Julio nodded, adding casually "Some of the calls were made from inside the building in question." He paused a moment, and his posture closed. "I will, however, defend my claim that this has to be a group of people. Fire is unpredictable, so yes having somebody keep an eye on it would help, but it's not like the other person can actually go in and fix anything if something is wrong. Whoever is doing this would have to be beyond meticulous. The smallest mistake or inaccuracy in planning, and suddenly things go in a completely different direction than planned. Even experts make mistakes, so I think that you would need to have more than one explosions expert working on this

"Plus, these people would have to have access to the buildings beforehand to plant the explosives, or whatever, without standing out. We already checked for the residential buildings where this would really be an issue, and no one person shares this. But, with a group that wouldn't need to be a case." Julio held a finger up. "Finally, this actually gives us something solid to search for other than 'people who like fire.'"

"You're right," Barry shrugged, "You can't exactly search easily for pyromania in a database, but you could search physically for the arsonist in the surrounding area and increase the security directly around the building. Hell, if we have cops who aided with the evacuations for previous burns do this, they might even recognize somebody." He then threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration. "You also didn't give me a chance to finish my reasoning. Please, Julio."

At that Julio laughed. "Sorry. Continue."

"Ok," Barry took a deep breath, eyes loosing focus as he tried to remember where he left off. "Oh, yeah. Another reason why the arsonist is probably close by. Fortunately, this one also ties into how I think the arsonist is pulling it off.

"Julio has a good point: whoever is pulling this off has a degree of control over the fire which is impossible. Moreover, I agree with Julio that this would imply that the arsonist is an expert at however they are starting these fires and that they are doing an incredibly meticulous job at it. However, there are too many factors that the arsonist could not possibly account for in how he designed his ignition system. If the wind changes just slightly, something burns a little too intensely, a piece of the structure collapses early,then suddenly the fire is out of control. One wouldn't expect this level of control even if the arsonist got the ignition system perfect."

Thawne's eyes widened slightly as the pieces clicked in his head. "You're saying the arsonist must have some secondary system in place to contain the fire. Makes sense, but how exactly are you proposing the arsonist is pulling it off? Considering combustion first turns the fuel into a gas, hence all the flames, it would be hard to keep it in a particular area."

"Um, yes. That's actually a part of my point," Barry responded as his shoulders straightened. The reaction occurred partially as a response to Thawne's authority, both in general and over Barry's life, yet that couldn't claim the bulk of the responsibility. Barry had also almost forgotten that Thawne was a part of the conversation. Sure, to some extent Barry had continued to direct his ideas towards Thawne, and he hadn't completely ignored Thawne's presence. But, when Julio had interrupted, Barry's attention had unconsciously shifted towards Julio, and he geared his thoughts more around defending his position to his coworker and friend. Thawne had become merely a part of the audience. Furthermore, despite Captain Frye's comment that Thawne understood science better than most, Barry hadn't expected him to suddenly reference a specific step from combustion.

"My guess is that the arsonist is laying down some form of chemical retardant beforehand, covering most of the key areas where the fire might spread from one area to another. Judging by the estimated temperatures of the initial fires, it would have to be cutting edge technology and probably even years beyond what's on the general market. Moreover, something that powerful would probably be fairly noticeable if not after application than at least during it. Therefore, the only time the arsonist would have to lay it down would be in the time just before the fire when everybody is too busy evacuating to pay him much heed."

Thawne nodded. "So, even if he left the building early he probably wouldn't have gotten far." He gave a slight raise of the eyebrow, asking if he had followed Barry correctly

"It's even better than that," Barry continued, but his facial features cringed briefly. He realized that this was the point where he would have to completely contradict his hunch and pretend like it didn't exist. Before he was simply arguing that the arsonist was close, which could very well be in the fire. Now he was going to diverge from that, and while he knew his hunch sounded crazy, it was currently his best shot and, if anything else, his. "Laying down the fire retardant would take plenty of time, so by the time the arsonist leaves the building, the police would already have arrived and set up help for the people evacuating the building. Now, he isn't too obvious or the police there would have noticed him at one of the previous burns, but perhaps if the officers there are told what to look for and more actively check in with anybody leaving the building, they might catch something at least."

"Those are some good points," Thawne paused and twirled his finger, "not exactly what I was expecting, but good. The officers at the commercial sites have said that there are typically more people than they can keep track of. Because their main priority is making sure people exit the building safely, once somebody does exit they make sure the person has a place to recuperate, and if somebody doesn't need that, then all the more time to focus on the people who do." Thawne picked up a pencil and jotted something on a loose piece of paper. "I'll talk to Captain Frye about getting more officers assigned to secure the evacuation sites. Considering the importance of this case, I doubt he'll say no."

Barry furrowed his eyebrows together and shifted his weight to his other foot. The fidgeting in his left hand, which he hadn't noticed before, stopped. "What exactly were you expecting?"

Julio and Thawne glanced between each other. Barry blinked and tried to read both of them for hints. This was disconcerting.

Finally, Julio spoke up, looking a little uncomfortable himself. "Well, a few days ago, apparently not long after I met you in the hospital, news about where you had been going on your supposed sick days leaked out. I personally don't know how it happened, but my best guess is Captain Frye was figuring out how he should work you back in, maybe talking to Detective West or Director Signh when somebody overheard and started spreading the rumor. So, Detective Thawne expected a more… unusual suggestion."

Barry's eyebrows promptly unknotted and shot up. "Really?" His mouth moved a little quicker as in he forgot to move slowly for a moment.

"Yeah," Thawne answered, not realizing that the question had been rhetorical. "Considering you went out of your way to seek out the impossible I thought you'd be willing to consider possibilities others might dismiss. I mean we're working on cases labeled unexplainable, though I will admit this one doesn't lend itself to that as easily as the others."

A moment passed. Barry blinked in disbelief at his new supervisor. "I'm willing to consider ideas that others might find odd, but that doesn't mean I always say them out loud. I've been shot down too many times to toss around crazy ideas without having solid evidence to back them up. I had already learned that before choosing to head out of town, but those experiences helped reinforce it." Barry then turned back to Julio with a glare. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?

"I didn't think it was that important," Julio shifted uncomfortably. "Plus, it wasn't like everyone was talking about it; I just said the news was out. The first I heard was from Captain Frye and Detective West confronting me about it, when I had to remind Detective West what I said earlier: everyone has a side of them that is a little bit off, doesn't mean we need to talk about it. I know that some people blow this kind of thing out of proportion, but think about it. If people really thought it was that big of a deal they would probably have asked me about it since we did both work under Patty Spivot and share a lab. Plus, you're so busy most of the time that I didn't want to drop something else on your plate, if it really didn't matter that much."

Barry narrowed his eyes at his friend. Julio was being earnest and sympathetic in his tone, so Barry couldn't hold this against him. That didn't dissipate all of his anger though. "I still think I should have known about this before, you know, talking with other people at work, especially my supervisor."

"To be fair," Thawne started, drawing his attention back. "I didn't hear much about it either. Enough to understand what Captain Frye meant when he sat down with me and warned me that you might try to skip work if something catches your eye elsewhere. But, it's not like they handed out a complete list of what you worked on. Just that some of it was a bit weirder than most." Thawne paused for a mili-second, his smile growing. "And, you know what? I'm fine with it. I think that there is more out there than most people on Earth are currently willing to admit. Hell, there is more on Earth than people on Earth know about. Home, some of that stuff brushed up against my life in ways you couldn't imagine, and this place is a part of the same universe, so it stands to reason that that stuff is possible here to."

"Thanks," Barry sighed, "But, unfortunately while I may spend most of my time in the lab, but you're not the only person I'll have to interact with here."

Patty Spivot immediately came to mind. How awkward would it be to run into her now that she knew why he didn't show up to work those days. Moreover, just because the task force had first dibs on these cases didn't mean that other CSI's wouldn't help out from time to time, so he might have to work with her again. Barry grimaced slightly at the thought. He would want to clear things up with her before that happened.

The three members of the task force sat in silence for a moment without anything to say after that. Even the sounds of police work going on around them seemed to die down. The detectives discussing their latest cases mumbled. The footsteps of officers darting from place to place skipped their original sounds and only echoed. The typical disturbances of people forcibly being brought in didn't even face the trio. Once the moment passed, however, the conversation could move on, and in particular, they could get back to work. The silence passed.

Thawne decided to speak up. "So, now that you know that I'm fine with some crazier ideas, is there anything else you want to add to the discussion?"

Barry shrugged, his eyes moving from Thawne's down to a space of carpeted wall. He still wasn't sure if he should say anything. He shrugged again. "Sure. I do have a weird hunch. While watching the videos of the fires, I got the feeling that the fire was spreading through the building like someone walking through it: the smaller fires working their way upwards or towards the center and the larger explosions working their way in the opposite direction. Watching the other videos didn't dismiss the idea and possibly reinforced it, but I still have no evidence for it." Barry then threw his hands up. "Plus, there's far more I can do in order to work towards testing my other ideas anyways. So, no evidence and not much chance of getting any either."

"Still," Thawne offered as his pinched slightly and his smile grew, "it's an idea and certainly an interesting one at that. Don't hold back."

Julio leaned towards Barry, an inquisitive twitch in his eyebrow. "I assume that one of the things you will be planning to do is try to find traces of this super fire retardant that you hypothesized?"

"Just because the other forensics teams didn't find anything doesn't mean that it's not there, but it does mean that it could take a bit of effort to find anything," Barry nodded. "Though at least for this, I have the feeling that looking might pay off."

"Well, if you help me with my dead bodies, I'll help you with your sample analysis," Julio laughed. Of the two lab workers, Julio had always had the keener eye for chemistry particularly of non-organics. "Whatever retardant the arsonist is using might not have survived intact. Once fire is working at it from both sides, through the interior of the structure, or especially during those final explosions, the chemical might start breaking down. It would still leave behind evidence, but it would be harder to find."

Barry laughed back. "The help would certainly be appreciated."

"Well, it sounds like we're done here," Thawne stated, moving his hands together in a gesture that screamed finality, though almost immediately his expression turned hesitant and eyebrow shot up. "Unless either of you forgot to say anything earlier. 'Don't want to assume anything." After both CSI's shook their heads in the negative, Thawne continued, "You two can head off then. I'll pass some of your ideas onto the other detectives working on the taskforce and talk to Captain Frye about getting more officers assigned to evacuating the buildings."

Julio and Barry then stepped out of the office, and once they walked far enough that the general murmur of work separated them from Thawne, Julio turned to Barry. He spoke comfortably but still in a soft controlled manner so that only people trying to eavesdrop would hear them. "I'm still sorry for not telling you about the rumors earlier, but I honestly didn't think that many people knew. Detective West and Captain Frye are fine, but they, and especially Detective West, can be a little protective of you." Julio dipped his head down slightly, "I mean Detective West had already confronted me once about letting that kind of stuff out when interest first peaked after you were hit, and the biggest thing that had occurred then was a supposed message from Oliver Queen, and most people didn't know what that was about, let alone what you were working on there.

"I think you can understand then, when I thought that they were being more than a little paranoid when they confronted me about it again a few days ago. I had already told them that I wouldn't leak that stuff, and while I don't engage in the darker portions of the water cooler talk, I'm not completely unaware of what's going around. That never popped up. Therefore, I was plenty surprised when, while we were waiting for you to arrive, Thawne asked me about the likely hood of you bringing up an implausible idea."

Barry nodded. "Now that you mention it, Forrest didn't seem onto it when I met him earlier." At this point Barry scowled and grit his teeth. "However, Thawne didn't seem that onto it when I met him yesterday and when I checked in with him on Monday. It's even weirder right now not knowing who knows what. At least if it was all out there I would know where I stood with people, and I wouldn't have to worry about accidentally letting the secret out to somebody who didn't know. Speaking of which, do you know if anybody found out about _why_ I was leaving town?"

"Captain Frye would have been restraining Detective West from choking me if somebody found out," Julio said rolling his eyes, "Ok, Detective West might like me a little better than that, but no I didn't get that impression. Plus, if something that juicy was circulating around, I would hear about it." Julio then blinked, mentally rewinding the conversation, "Did you meet James Forrest, the DNA specialist?"

Barry nodded. What did that have to do with anything?

"While I don't know much about Thawne, I've worked with Forrest several times. He's one to engage in idle and friendly conversation, not the backstabbing deceptive talk that accompanies workplace politics. How can a guy who opens up a boat magazine, points to a picture, and wistfully proclaims 'isn't that one a beauty?' try to hide the fact that he knows your deep dark secret? Trust me. Forrest doesn't know."

"At least I know how I stand with one person then," Barry laughed back.

"It's a little more than _that_. You've got myself, Detective West, and Captain Frye as well. Plus, though I only found out about Thawne this morning, I didn't get the impression that he was trying to be sneaky about it." Julio paused, making a confused face. "In fact, he seemed a little excited. Before you arrived I thought it was just how people sometimes get when they've heard about something a bunch and they finally get to see it in person. Guess I was wrong."

Barry froze, then blinked, then blinked again. His mouth opened slightly before closing. "Wow. Suddenly Thawne makes so much more sense."

Julio's eyebrows, which were already furrowed, pushed further together. "What exactly do you mean? You're not making sense here, Barry."

"Eager and excited seemed to be words to describe Thawne's relation to me. Not in any way that is too overt or creepy but still noticeable. At first, I thought it was his first time supervising somebody and he was giddy with the new responsibility or that he just took his job really seriously and thus threw himself into the role, but now I have a new possible explanation. When he was explaining why he was cool with me putting some crazy ideas out there, he mentioned that he'd had a close encounter with the unexplainable as well. I was too busy worrying about the fact that he knew about my excursions and its repercussions that I didn't really notice when he said that, but… it totally makes sense now."

Julio looked at Barry with a deadpan expression and placed a hand on Barry's shoulder. "Slow down Barry. You think Thawne is excited to be working with you because you've both had weird experiences?"

Barry stopped. He hadn't thought he had been talking fast. Then again, had he? His thoughts had been racing with the sudden revelation and he hadn't been paying too much attention at the time. Barry took a deep breath. It would probably be better from now on if he talked slower even than what would be normal. That way if he accidentally loosened his control somewhat it wouldn't be so bad.

Having gotten that out of the way, Barry glared at his friend. "There's a difference between weird and unexplainable. You tell people about a weird experience, and they think it makes a cool story. You tell people about an unexplainable experience, and they think you are getting science fiction confused with reality. You can imagine then that it's hard when nobody believes what you have to say, and even if their willing to look past it they don't really know what you're going through. Now that I know Thawne has lived through something similar part of me wants to go bug him for more about the event despite the fact that I have work to do. At the same time, part of me realizes that if he pushed me for information I might not want to share yet so why should I expect the same from him. Hence, excited but not exactly forthcoming or direct."

Julio stared at Barry a moment before shrugging. "I guess you're right; I'll never completely understand where you're coming from. But, I'll believe you, and that means we can add Thawne to our list." Julio's face broke into a grin. "Look. We're making progress."

"Oh. Five people out of the whole entire department. I am overwhelmed with how much progress we are making." Barry shook his head at his friend before proceeding, "You do have a point though that I shouldn't worry too much about this. It doesn't look like too many people know much anyways. Still, I should go check with Spivot and see what she knows. She's the only person I can think of who this revelation would impact directly."

"Well, don't take forever. I'm going to get started on those bodies, and you know you don't want to miss out on all the fun of sorting through charred remains." Julio's voice returned to normal, losing the control and softness it had displayed when he didn't want to draw attention to the conversation. If anything it was louder than usual and dripping with sarcasm. A few coworkers glanced over at him before realizing that the statement regarded normal police work and returned to their previous tasks.

Barry got the message: don't leave Julio to do the job alone.

This wasn't to say that Julio couldn't do the job without his friend. Julio for one was competent with biology and more specifically forensic anthropology, despite the fact that his strong suit laid elsewhere. He didn't mind the presence of dead bodies, and the presence of death did not disturb his work.

On the contrary, Julio at one point had stated to Barry that he could find comfort in the death and finality. Barry had found this a bit odd as he had always used the emotional disturbances death triggered as motivation to get the job done, but the comment had made more sense after Julio had revealed that he hadn't originally planned to become a forensic scientist; his parents, particularly his father, had originally pushed him to become a doctor. For the larger part of Julio's life, he had also assumed that was what he wanted to do. Unfortunately, it was only after Julio had completed most of the pre-med track at his college that he realized he didn't want to pursue a degree in medicine. At that point, forensics had been an option that looked interesting and required only a slight change to take care of the necessary pre-reqs.

Julio had guessed that he might have switched off just to spite his father. They had been having a few fights around that time, and he wouldn't put it past his subconscious to influence him.

Fortunately, his academic interests had always been in bio-chem with his pre-med track accompanying a chemistry major, and in the years leading up to the switch Julio had found himself drawn more towards the inorganic portions of chemistry as he had progressed through his major. Biology and particularly human biology remained interesting, but the fascination was with the subject as a whole, not in practicing it or taking its classes. Hence, Julio also figured that the change had been coming down the line for some time, though he had still needed a push away from the pre-med track.

The push came one summer when he had gotten a job working at a hospital. Well, it was barely a job, and wasn't even really an internship yet. He hadn't even hit medical school, so they couldn't really give him any responsibilities related to the medical field. Yet, it paid money, Julio could put it on his resume, and at least he was working in the right location. Even without any real responsibilities though, working there allowed him to see things from a different angle, consider the patients as under someone's care, and sympathize with the doctors a little more.

And, he didn't like it.

Watching a doctor work, Julio realized someone's heath was on the line. Sure, for visits as innocuous as the yearly check up, it probably wouldn't matter that much, but not every visit would be so lucky. Hell, some doctors, particularly the specialists, mostly dealt with the more serious cases, and Julio couldn't imagine dealing with that day in and day out. Every medical choice one made had negative consequences in addition to the positive ones the doctors sought; if you make a mistake often you give the patient the former without the latter or with a sick twisted version of the latter that does more harm than good. Julio wanted to help, but he needed to be able to make mistakes as well.

Therefore, when he said he liked the finality of forensics, it wasn't that he liked death. It was that he preferred it to dying. Working with the dead allowed him to improve the lives of those left behind, but he didn't have to worry about the body on the table. He still needed to make sure he did his job correctly and didn't destroy any evidence on the body, but though difficult the act was not as delicate, not as immediate as the one involved in medicine.

He didn't dislike working with dead bodies because they were dead. He disliked them because he disliked poking around other people's bodies. It was one thing to give a diagnosis based on a set of symptoms. Perhaps you do some tests like taking the person's blood pressure or a scan of some sort. That wasn't too bad. Cutting up someone's body or sticking your fingers in their mouth in order to figure out how they died on the other hand felt like an invasion of their privacy, which was odd because he felt completely and totally fine ruffling through their belongings and running pieces of their stuff through chemical analysis. Yet, the oddness of a feeling rarely belays its existence, and as such Julio remained hesitant but willing to work with peoples remains

Barry had picked up on most of this and smiled back, "Don't worry. I won't take too long."

And with that the two coworkers parted ways.

Barry walked down to Patty's lab. He'd checked her cubical first just because he was already in the cubical sea, but as expected she wasn't there. While she typically spent her mornings organizing her day in the small space the department had deemed an office, Barry's talk with Julio and Thawne had taken a while, so she had probably already started off to get her lab work done.

The walk from her cubical to her lab wasn't too far, just out of the sea and down two hallways, but it was long enough for Barry to consider what he was going to say. He had to ask her whether or not she knew where he had been without giving it away if she didn't know. Then again, should he even try to keep this a secret from her at this point. She had been his supervisor, so if she found out from someone other than him, things would become so much more awkward. The only reason he hadn't told her beforehand that he was heading out of town was he had been scared it might affect his future at the department, but he was already experiencing the fallout from that in any case Therefore, he should come right out and say it. He wouldn't go into detail about what the cases were or why he had chased them down, but he should put his disappearances on the table immediately.

But what if her lab partner was there? Barry hadn't known the person that well before his coma, and for all he knew the person could have changed during the time he had been asleep. While he was certainly fine talking to Patty Spivot about this as she had a right to know about all the times he'd called in sick that doesn't necessarily mean that he thought her lab partner also had the right to that information. Yet, Barry would also feel weird asking the person to leave. It was their lab as well. What if they were in the middle of something?

Moreover, thinking of his coma reminded Barry that maybe he should make a little small talk with Spivot first. While it didn't feel like it had been that long since he last spoke to her, Barry knew that plenty of time had passed since then. It would be a little abrupt to suddenly stop by and bring up a big topic like that.

Barry blinked, noticing that his feet had finally placed themselves in front of Patty Spivot's office. He swallowed and then knocked.

For a moment, nothing. Barry reminded himself that not that much time had passed. Finally, Patty's voice called from the other side of the door, "Come in."

Barry opened the door and walked in, "Uh… Hi. Ms. Spivot, would this be a bad time to talk about…" Barry glanced around, noticing with relief that whoever Patty's lab partner was they weren't in the room, "things?" Not knowing where to go from there, Barry left it at that and fumbled he waited for her response. He didn't even walk across the room despite the fact that Patty Spivot stood over a table on the opposite end. Despite the fact that in his nervousness, his feet would have preferred to keep moving.

Patty Spivot looked up and smiled. "Would stuff also be a part of this discussion?" At Barry's confused expression, Patty Spivot shook her head. "I take it you don't watch _The Walking Dead_, and you wanted to talk to me about something else. So, long as it won't take too long I see no reason why we couldn't quickly discuss anything. You probably have places to be soon anyways, and finishing up these measurements doesn't take up too much attention. I can do that while I talk or at least while I listen." Patty paused as she dropped two more drops into a red solution in a Petri dish and moved it to the side. "Moreover, you don't have to be so formal with the Ms. Spivot anymore. Most of my assistants don't ask what I'd prefer, and I'd rather not act like the boss whose trying to be cool even if I don't want to be super strict either." Patty glanced around. "I swear there was another stool around here somewhere if you wanted to sit down."

"Thank you, but I think I'll stand," Barry replied as he walked over to where Patty was working. "Did you ever work with Julio after he got promoted, because I'm fairly certain he didn't get the memo on that."

Patty picked up another Petri dish and added another set of drops to the solution. "We've run into each other once or twice, but I don't really blame him for not seeking me out. Things got a little hectic and stressful after the particle accelerator incident, and since that coincided with me loosing an assistant, it was worse for both of us."

Barry nodded. "That would make sense."

Putting the Petri dish back down, Patty looked Barry in the eye. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Uh…" Barry sighed fumbling the words around in his brain before they finally tumbled out of his mouth, "Remember all those times I called in sick la- when I worked for you?" Barry decided that statement was clear enough to get a reaction from her if she knew anything but said little enough that he'd be able to gauge how much she knew before hand. As much as Barry wanted to tell her the important information about his disappearances, he also wanted to know how much information was floating around the rumor pool. Once he had decided on what to say, the only hesitation came when he had wanted to say 'last year' and then realized that some of the events were closer to two years ago because of how much time had passed during his coma.

"You mean all of those times you visited other departments to work on strange cases," Patty stated flatly narrowing her eyes.

Barry's eyes shot open and he leaned back. Though he'd expected her to know something, and her statement wasn't that detailed, she had put it more bluntly than he had anticipated.

In response, Patty raised an eyebrow. "Captain Frye, Director Signh, and I had a talk when they'd discovered your excursions; they wanted my opinion as your supervisor and as a superior who worked closely with you on a day to day basis." Patty's smile turned snarky. "However, you weren't being nearly as sneaky as you thought you were." She then tilted her head to the side inquisitively. "Why have you suddenly decided to bring it up now?" She held the position for a little bit before she remembered that she was in the middle of doing something and suddenly turned back to her work station. Patty paused for a moment, trying to recall where she had left off, and then shifted the Petri dishes around a bit separating them into two groups.

Barry's shoulders fell at Patty's comment. "Well, I heard that some of that information had turned into a rumor, and while it would still be nice to know how most people are reacting to it, I wanted to at least check in on the people who it would actually affect. That, and I'm already feeling the consequences of those trips, so there wasn't as much of a reason to keep it secret from you."

"Aww, that's nice of you," Patty said in just the right tone, so Barry couldn't tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. She then looked Barry straight in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure, though, that you also wanted to know my reaction to the news. I mean you stand to be the one affected most by this."

Barry pressed his lips together before nodding, "Yes, it would be nice to know, but I figured doing the nice thing and checking in whether or not you told me would also work towards repairing any chance at a decent work relationship." Patty's eyes narrowed skeptically, causing Barry to lean backwards. He had expected to have to get defensive over his choice to occasionally leave the city, not his choice to talk to her about it. "I mean you're a smart CSI who could get assigned to a case I'm working on, and I didn't want to put this conversation off, so it could bite me in the ass."

Patty laughed. "It was still nice of you." It was Barry's time to look skeptical. "While I engage in the rumor mill myself sometimes, people can have so many ulterior motives with these things, that I just want it all on the table. And, don't take my interrogation the wrong way; for me, your trips out of town don't really change much for me."

Barry's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really." Patty rolled her eyes. "I mentioned that you weren't as sneaky as you thought you were. For one, somehow you managed to have all of your stuff for the next few days done and ready to turn in. Now, Julio fed it to me at the appropriate times, but I knew some of that stuff would be a little hard to do at home with food poisoning or a fever. So…" Patty gave a dramatic shrug to illustrate how much BS she thought that was. "But, the fact is you were getting that stuff done, and while it would have been nice to have you in the station, you were already better than some of the other assistants I've had. They wouldn't turn their stuff in even when they were here." She smiled fondly. "Needless to say most of them did not make it past assistant hood.

"No. Your absences were fine. Even your last one where you didn't get the work done for all of it ended up with an email from Queen Consolidated saying that they delayed your trip back. It was all the ridiculous excuses you produced that got to me." Patty held up a finger. "I know most of the ones you made for being late were true. _Most_. But, nobody has luck that bad, Barry. I would almost think you were sabotaging yourself or expending the effort to look up things that actually happened, except for the fact that whenever you wanted out of town you had the most terrible excuses ever. I would share some of them with Director Signh as jokes."

"I guess I was always more focused on where I was going than what I would tell everybody here. Still, most people would react more to where I was going rather than the fact that I left," Barry pointed out, talking especially slowly.

Patty shrugged. "What you do when you're not here is your concern, though I can say that is one of the weirder pursuits I've heard about, and that is after the guy who chases UFO's swung by. In fact, if I hadn't worked with you, I'd question your sanity. But, I have worked with you. You may believe some weird things, but you still know what to expect from the world when you come in to do your job. You still make mistakes, but you do so for the same reasons everyone else does." Patty looked back at her rows of Petri dishes and pointed at them, doing a mental count. "I won't let this get in the way if we ever have to work together, but don't expect me to run off searching for these things or volunteer for one of the taskforce's cases."

A smile broke out on Barry's face. She didn't believe him that such things were possible, but he hadn't expected that anyways. Her not caring was a close second, and one that didn't come along too often either. "Thank you."

In his excitement, Barry had to restrain himself from darting out the door and to his lab where Julio was already prepping the examinations. Instead he forced himself to say goodbye and walk at a normal pace towards the door, which ended up being the better decision, because a thought popped into his head on the way. Turning towards Patty as he stepped into the door, he asked, "Would you happen to have any idea how this rumor got started or how far it's gotten?"

"Unfortunately, I might." Patty's shoulder's dropped, and she put the eyedropper she had picked up back on the table. "I don't know how Thawne had heard of it, but a few days ago he came in to question me about it because I had been your supervisor. My lab partner walked in partway through the conversation and was able to figure things out." Patty gave half a laugh. "The look on Thawne's face when my partner finally commented that you must be a little crazy and chasing windmills. I mean neither of us wanted everyone to know about your adventures, but he seemed to really hit himself over the head for bringing it out in the open. He practically forced my partner to swear an oath of secrecy, which might explain why this news isn't moving as fast through the rumor pool as it might otherwise." Patty looked Barry in the eye. "That's all I know."

Barry leaned against the door frame squinting in confusion. "Thanks… again." And, at that Barry turned to leave. This time, however, he wasn't excited, and he didn't need to pull himself back. It made sense that Thawne would go to Patty once he found out, but if he knew about it before the rumors got started, how did he find out? Walking out of Patty's lab, Barry shook his head. He had more important things to do like help Julio identify those bodies. He'd confront Thawne about it later.

And, at that Barry left Patty's lab and headed to help Julio with the bodies. The first hour of that proved fruitless, but an hour and a half in they managed to get identification on one of the bodies. Turns out the person in question had worked in the building and fit neither of the profiles Julio and Barry had built up. They were not wealthy at all and had no history with fires, neither in controlling them nor in starting them. While this didn't provide much progress on the case, at least some family would know have access to the remains of their departed. Another half hour was spent getting the paperwork ready to turn the body over.

Barry and Julio had managed to move on to concentrate on the other bodies for another hour before Thawne burst into the room. The detective quickly glanced between the CSI's. "You better pack up because there will be a new burn site soon, and any help at the evacuation site will be greatly appreciated."

**A/N:** This chapter was originally going to be rather short and possibly tacked on to the one after this, but then the Frumious Bandersnatch left a review pushing me to look at some of the other characters at Barry's work place, and this happened. Some of this related to the review, some of this were things I had planned and merely brought out sooner, some of it I particularly planned out as I was writing, and some of it just happened ("Julio what are you doing here?" "Well, somebody has to poke fun at Barry for being late, and Thawne wasn't about to do it. The guy is better than he was earlier, but he's still no fun.").

On a separate note, I caved. I was going to hold out for October, but alas I couldn't resist. For everybody else, whenever you choose to see it, it will be amazing. However, I only caved in at the very end of writing this chapter, and it was interesting to compare where the stories were going. I did, however, go back and make sure a certain name matched up correctly.


	11. Chapter 10: Heroism

Oh, look who finally decided to update. And, no, I did not forget this story; this chapter just took forever to write because it is so long and it refused to be split in two. Then it took a while to edit the chapter for the exact same reason. We also discovered that my computer was having enough difficulties that we were ready to give up on it. That meant new computer (yay!); however, turns out I finished the chapter after the transfer was complete… on my old computer… which forgot wifi exists… and I didn't bring my Ethernet cord with me on the road. Needless to say the technical difficulties finally been resolved (whew), and we can enjoy the fruits of my labor. I swear the next few chapters will be shorter.

Still, I'm sorry I couldn't get this to you guys sooner. As such, so far this has only been edited by me because after how long it took me to do my edits it would probably take another while for somebody else to add on theirs. Hence, I've cleaned up most things but some might have slipped through the cracks. I will send it off for beta'ing though and post a version with the added revisions.

On a different topic, I decided to do my author's note differently this time for reasons. It will of course still be a reflection on the chapter and, because it is a milestone for Barry, a reflection on the road to it. However, I wanted to give you a warning that it is a tad more note-ish than usual. I have reasons.

Lastly, a shout out to all the guest reviews whom I cannot thank through private message. It still means a lot to me.

**Chapter 10: Heroism**

Barry blinked twice at the detective in front of him. He had known that the arsonist could strike at any minute and in fact was more likely to do so as the days gone by. He also was used to his superiors at the department barging in and suddenly assigning him a new case; it wasn't like crimes occurred to fit the department's schedule. But, in those cases the crime was completed, and while moving quicker solved the case quicker and brought resolution to the victims, the victim's lives had already been changed or ended. Now that a crime was still in progress Thawne's voice contained an urgency which Barry hadn't encountered before, or at least hadn't encountered directed at him outside of that incident with the Arrow. "We'd probably have to pack our equipment before heading out, but I believe we'd both be willing to help." Barry turned towards Julio. "I assume you'd be willing to drive us both."

Julio looked Barry in the eye and nodded before returning his gaze to Thawne. "Do you know what type of building it is this time?"

Thawne lowered his head, and his brow furrowed. "An apartment building down on the Lower East Side. It has fifteen stories, though fortunately there is a bit of space around it, so the fire shouldn't jump." Barry and Julio glanced between themselves. Not only did it sound like the arsonist was moving up in size, but he was choosing a new type of building as well. "Hopefully this means that most of the occupants were at work, but we can't be for certain. People could be stay-at-home parents, unemployed, working odd hours, or merely taking a sick day. Anyways, I'm heading off. 'Hope to see you there."

Thawne glanced between the two CSI's with downturned lips and squinted eyes. It appeared that Thawne not only hoped that Barry and Julio would arrive in time to help with the evacuation but that if they didn't do so early he might get angry.

Barry's shoulder's tensed. He could understand where Thawne was coming from. While this case had its interesting elements, it was also extremely frustrating, and Thawne had additional pressure to solve the case as the taskforce liaison. Now, combine the intense pressure with the scarcity of leads. Thawne was probably desperate that this burn would provide some sort of break through, and Barry's idea that the arsonist might be close to the fire was one of the few ideas on the table. Moreover, while Julio's idea was more likely to yield results, searching for the arsonist during the fires has a limited time frame and thus was currently more urgent.

However, the situation also piled the scales against Barry. First, he wasn't used to having to pack his equipment in such a rush, so just getting ready might take slightly more time than Thawne expected. Second, Barry had yet to shake his curse of being almost constantly late, and while it might not strike, he never could bet that it wouldn't. Third, of the two CSI's in the room, only he reported directly to Thawne, so if they did manage to arrive late, he would probably get chewed out for the both of them. None of these things were so bad alone that they would screw him over, but they added up.

Deflating, Barry looked for some good news. "Did Captain Frye approve the extra officers?"

Thawne's face tensed for a moment, before he shrugged. "Some, but I don't know how much it will help." He then glanced at his watch. "Gotta go. I already printed off the address and some driving directions if you need them." He placed some papers on one of the open tables and then dashed out of the room.

Barry and Julio glanced at each other, sighed, and then started clearing their workspace. Not only would it be rude if they left their scalpels, tissue swabs, and spare gloves laying around the examination room, but if the body isn't stored properly then, unsurprisingly, it begins to decompose. Then, the two lab partners would not be able to rigorously test Julio's hypothesis that one of the unidentified corpses belonged to a culprit. Barry found it hard to wrap his head around a group of pyromaniacs organizing themselves so tightly and for so long when the burns provided no payoff other than the thrill, but he was hopeful and didn't want any evidence to be damaged.

While they were pushing the body back into its hole in the wall, Julio commented, "If you get the stuff ready and meet me out front, I'll go get the car ready. I don't want to miss him exiting the building, and I doubt he'll wait until the last minute, people not being fireproof and all."

"And in the very unlikely case that the arsonist is fireproof and working inside the building?"

"In that case," Julio shot Barry a deadpan expression at the thought of even considering the possibility, "The department doesn't exactly have the time to search the building before it burns everyone else inside to crisp, but he'd have to exit at some point." Both CSI's picked up their materials and headed out. When they reached the door, Julio held his examination kit out to Barry, "If you're heading back to the lab anyways, so… "

"It'll save time," Barry said grabbing the packet. _Time_. One thing he seemed to have more of than everybody else.

The two CSIs left the lab and parted ways soon after. Barry continued on to the lab.

Stepping into the lab, he firmly closed the door and glanced around. Of course no one was going to be here, but at this moment Barry couldn't help but be a bit nervous and paranoid. He may have spent the past few days getting used to his new abilities, but he still had an inkling of a doubt about them and not once since the hospital had he used his abilities under pressure. Considering he hadn't known about them until his final escape attempt, Barry didn't think any previous use counted.

But, now wasn't the time to hesitate. It was the time to act and act quickly. Barry raced around the room, glad that he knew it well enough and had arranged it appropriately so that he could navigate it without running into any of the fragile containers on various shelves around the room. Hell, if he wasn't still getting used to difficulties of maneuvering at such speeds, he could probably do it blindfolded, even on Julio's half of the room. Needless to say within a couple seconds, Barry had put all the tools for examining the bodies away, had grabbed the supplies for sampling and recording the burn site, and had placed his hand on the door handle.

He paused.

What really would be the difference between dashing around the room and getting to the burn site on foot? He had caught a glimpse of the address, and it wouldn't be too hard to look up the directions himself.

Ok, Barry knew that while the short bursts he had been doing didn't seem to do any serious damage, any damage his abilities could inflict would build up over a longer and more intense run. There would be no point in going to the burn site on foot if he didn't run significantly faster than the surrounding cars, not only to have the run improve his arrival time by any worthwhile amount but also to avoid being seen, or at least identified, by anyone else using the streets. However, all of his tests he had done after getting home had been relaxed if not restrained. He did not want to give into the speed let alone push himself faster while using it. In comparison, his run outside of the hospital had only carried him a couple blocks, in comparison to the miles he would need to traverse to arrive at the future burn site.

Yet, now wasn't the time to be worrying about such things. Even if his abilities were damaging his body, Barry doubted at this point that one run would kill him. Whatever micro-injuries were possibly occurring were so small that after every test run Barry could swear he felt better not worse. Moreover, whatever small injuries he might accrue would be nothing compared to the burns someone would receive if they failed to make it out of the building in time. He'd seen that already today. Skin charred and pealed beyond recognizability. Muscles twisted from the heat. Lungs seared from the inside out and flushed black with soot.

In the tension of the moment Barry had forgotten to completely let go of the feeling associated with speed when he had grabbed the door handle, though of course that had nothing to do with his consideration of the options. Still, the sliver now leaked extra speed force into Barry Allen's soul, egging him on to use it.

Barry started turning the door handle, trying to push those thoughts aside. Even though he felt like he was moving slowly any observer would have found the action sudden.

Julio's comment echoed in his head. The department wouldn't be able to search the building quickly enough to ensure the officers were outside by the time the building burst into flames, but in all likelihood he probably could.

He'd have to hold back when sweeping through the halls just to make sure he didn't miss anything. While some details pop out, most completely disappear. What remains is highly selective. Generally he could see the location of possible obstructions along with large swaths of color. If he was actively looking for something very specific, the details obviously related to that would pop out like neon signs as he discovered winding his way out of the hospital. Fortunately, though 'something suspicious' wouldn't exactly be an easy be an easy thing to spot at super speed, he only needed to fast enough to cover more ground than the officers could. Plus, if his idea about the fire retardant was correct, the large masses of it necessary to prevent the impending fire's spread should be rather obvious.

But, if he found the arsonist, perhaps they could final stop him and end the panic in the department in the city as a whole. Barry wasn't sure if he could stop the arsonist himself. There was still so little information about how the arsonist operated, and even if Barry had a plan, he was far more comfortable in the lab than up close with criminals. Yet, he'd still be able to get some information to help them in their search.

Barry glanced at his computer. He let go of the door handle and zipped to his computer chair. Typing in the address, Barry waited for the directions to appear on the screen.

Once the map with the step by step instructions bellow flipped onto Barry's browser, Barry squinted his eyes. It certainly wasn't close. While Barry would be coming in from the department's headquarters, officers from the station in the lower east side were probably already arriving at the burn site. Moreover, the directions here thought he would be taking the highway. Barry almost clicked to change the route preferences, when he realized this might not actually be a bad thing. While running back to the hospital, he had easily shot past the cars without even trying, and there hadn't exactly been a traffic jam. It wouldn't be too hard to swerve around cars going double that speed. Thinking back to when he almost ran into that car, Barry decided that it was for the best that he dealt with as few intersections as possible.

Figuring he wouldn't exactly be able to carry any print-outs with him to check on the way, Barry subconsciously pulled in some speed force before scanning through the directions more than a couple times. Once he was sure he had the route memorized, he released his hold on the speed force, grabbed the sampling kits and rushed without speeding to meet up with Julio who was just pulling his car out in front of the department headquarters.

Julio pulled the car to a stop, and Barry heard the click of the car door opening. He pulled the door and placed the sampling kits on the passenger's seat, before looking at Julio, "I just realized that I have something to do. It won't take long, and I'll catch another ride there."

Julio furrowed his eyebrows before shrugging off Barry's vague excuse. "What do you want me to tell Thawne if you can't make it in time?"

"I'll be there. Don't worry," Barry stated pulling away from the car. It would defeat the purpose of his whole venture if he didn't manage to get to the burn site early.

"But, what should I tell Thawne?"

Barry paused for a moment. He had been about to say 'make something up', but that would make it sound like he was ditching work. Turning back he called out, "Some stuff needed to get cleared up with my return." The answer seemed to satisfy Julio, whose car pulled away from the station and took off down the road.

Glancing back at the station, Barry decided from where he should start his run. The parking lot behind the department headquarters was typically empty, but with the sudden rush of officers trying to get the burn site that might not be a good idea. Barry glanced at the ground in thought. There was a small alley, not even big enough for a car, between the buildings accessible through the back parking lot. Even if the parking lot were crawling with people no one would be heading in that direction. As soon as the thought occurred to him, Barry took off in that direction.

Swerving through the department's hallways Barry exited the department's headquarters to find several officers getting into the white and blue police cars parked outback. One of them glanced oddly in his direction as he headed past the parked vehicles and into the alleyway, but the officer quickly dismissed him as odd and nothing else. Once Barry reached half of the way through the alley he looked over his shoulder. No one else was in the alley, and he couldn't see anybody else in the parking lot from here. The slightest of smiles graced his lips, hindered only by the seriousness of his situation. Looking forward, he took off down the alley pausing slightly to find an opening into traffic. As soon as he saw one he rushed into the road, remembering the directions he had looked up soon before.

It felt good to be truly running again, though he would have preferred to do so under different circumstances. For example, knowing more about the effects running had on his body would have been nice along with doing so under less dire circumstances.

If he didn't have to take deep breaths thirteen times a second to keep his blood oxygenated, he would have sighed. Instead, one of his exhales turned into an exasperated huff. The sliver twisted in response, changing the pattern, though not the amount, of his intake from the speed force. Ripples spread.

Fortunately, the small tests he had done in his apartment had given him a greater degree of control. He still didn't have access to the individual movements of his muscles, but his mind didn't feel so bogged down by managing the movement. While his eyes weren't able to see more details of the cars, shops, and government buildings passing him by, sorting through the information which managed to reach his brain was getting easier. Perhaps it was because he knew this area of town better than he knew the area surrounding the hospital, but even with just blurred the shapes and colors, he was starting to pick out when buildings passed. Sometimes he noticed when a particular shop or office complex ended and another sprang up in the same structure. Things which are extremely helpful in navigation but most people take for granted.

Moreover, while he couldn't control his muscles directly, he felt like had more of a say in the matter now. Before when he had run out into the intersection, he hadn't wanted to stop. But, that was probably his abilities screwing with his brain again, making him want to use them, and even if he had, he wouldn't have known how. When he had pushed off that one car and had dashed between the lanes, he was just as surprised at his own actions as any bystander would have been. It was as if once he'd inputted a destination into his abilities, his body had moved there with his mind only along for the ride.

Waiting a millisecond for a gap in the cars beside him, Barry decided to test this out. Once a gap appeared, Barry pushed himself in that direction before pulling himself back in time to miss the back end of the next car in the lane. The result was barely a waiver, but it was something. He was in control.

Barry passed two streets before a block of green with Francis St. written in white appeared in his vision. His first turn. And, fortunately as he glanced upwards and toward the center of his lane, a small neon green circle flashed into his vision.

He pulled himself slower, though hopefully not slow enough to be seen, before bending into the turn and pushing as hard as his shoes and legs would allow. The pavement reverberated through his legs. Cars passed slowly around him. The world twisted, and his brain pulled more energy to keep up with the shifting viewpoint. Finally, his feet ended where he wanted them or at least one lane over, but that was close enough. He shot straight down this new street.

He raised his speed once again only to discover after passing a block that the cars were slowing down and a red neon light popped into his vision. For a moment Barry panicked and ground himself to a halt in the middle of the cross walk. Several pedestrians had already started to migrate to the other portion of sidewalk; Barry glanced between them, unsure. Most didn't notice his arrival, though one pedestrian jumped, stared at him with an odd expression, shook their head, and then continued walking. Barry's eyes checked both directions before sweeping the whole intersection. It was one he'd seen previously, though only on a handful of occasions.

Still a little dazed, Barry turned his attention towards the direction he wanted to head and the traffic cutting across it. His eyes darted back and forth with the cars. His next turn was a left onto the highway, so should he start making his way that direction or keep to the right to avoid cutting across traffic again? It would all depend on how confident he was about not getting lost the other way.

Or, he could find an opening in the traffic like the one just coming up. It wasn't very long, only two car lengths until another batch of cars came in from the left, but he could make it. He pulled in his abilities, readied his grip on the speed force, shifted his muscles, and… ran.

From there until the highway was a relatively smooth run, and though he made sure he was going at a decent clip, he never pushed himself to go too fast so that he could react in time to another red light. It would be unpleasant if he accidentally didn't notice a change at the light but rather noticed a car crossing perpendicularly into his path. Fortunately, he had a string of green lights until his turn onto the highway where he again slowed down. This time he swerved onto the gravel and grass beside the road before correcting himself onto the lanes; turning was getting easier as he gained more control over his muscles and speed, but the laws of physics weren't making things easy.

After that the cars were more spread out, he had more lanes with which to work, faster traffic all around him, and no red lights for more than fifteen miles. Barry pulled the feeling associated with his abilities closer. In turn, his feet beat against the pavement more often causing his shoes to complain against the stress. The air resisted his movement, pushing his shirt, sweater, and jeans taught against his skin. Between this and his clothing's natural inertia, the threads in his shirt were slowly being pulled apart, especially at the seams and across the front of his torso where the pressure was highest. His jeans faced pressure in multiple directions as his legs swooshed back and forth and his knee bent and relaxed.

The air, meanwhile, rolled behind him in waves, sparking slightly with the eddies of unused speed force trailing behind him. Of course, the air had been doing this before. Never could the sliver keep track of every last piece of speed force, and thus naturally pieces would spiral away and discharge when he tapped into his abilities. The air also is pushed out of the way when an object moves through it, especially at higher velocities.

But, now the waves were thicker, noticeably stirring up dirt behind him and rock the cars which he passed. The sparks grew from microscopic pinpricks to visible arcs.

However, Barry didn't notice any of these things. His eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, plotting out his future steps and attempting to read the gigantic green signs in case his exit turned up quicker than expected, which was a distinct possibility because he had no idea how fast he was going. All he knew was that the vehicles were shooting behind him, and it took all of his brainpower to avoid crashing into them.

Indeed it took only two and a half minutes before the name of the street he wanted flashed in the corner of his high. ½ Mile. He began his push to the right. A moment later the exit was upon him, and he veered to the right.

Again the running became stop and start due to red lights and sharp turns, but soon he reached the street which matched the apartment's address. Slowing down, he soon came across a swarm of police cars and fire trucks surrounding a tall building which stood apart from the other buildings by a scraggly lawn. He pulled to a stop on the outskirts of a crowd.

Barry was no longer in downtown, so this spacing was not a complete surprise nor did it indicate that the apartment complex was more costly or higher end than any others. In fact, it's plain brick exterior with steel balconies conveyed age without the prestige that sometimes accompanies the past. Without any obvious indication of disrepair, such as cracks or layers of haphazard spray paint, the building seemed out of shape. Perhaps the bricks had faded while accumulating a layer of dirt and grime. Yet, despite the building's lack of pride and presence, it was not small. Its towers reached up at least fourteen stories with the first two stories shared between the two, and each had the base of a sports field. Not necessarily the size of a whole stadium, but certainly a field.

Barry's eyes darted from person to person in the steadily accumulating crowd of bystanders. He wasn't exactly sure what to do. He had had the idea of searching the building, but was that really the best idea? The important thing would be to get the residents out of the building and to safety. Fire alarms and officers would be taking care of the first part. Moreover, if the arsonist was going to do anything noticeable, he would do it close to when the fire would start, so that the building was mostly empty at that point. And, at that point, Barry didn't want to be anywhere near the apartment complex.

He would probably do more good outside.

His decision to run to the burn site had been a spur of the moment choice, and one he probably wouldn't have made if he had thought about it earlier. Ok, he'd thought about it, but he'd been talking himself into the action rather than actually considering all of his options and taking a sensible, cautious, approach. Most of what he had done with his abilities earlier were things he could have conceivably done before the accident, just with the speed turned to a different scale. However, while people probably run marathons as long as the distance he traveled, he wouldn't have been able to do it before hand, let alone using a set of abilities which were still untested and possibly dangerous.

It wasn't that he actually had any reason to complain. Wiggling his toes and bending his joints, Barry noted that nothing felt out of place or stressed, which was odd. Even marathon runners become tired after events, and Barry wasn't a marathon runner. Or at least he hadn't been. He really should be used to these small surprises by now, but he still found it both faintly disturbing and reassuring.

But, Barry wasn't going to spend his time chasing after ghosts that weren't there, so he finally decided to locate someone who knew what was going on, preferably someone coordinating the evacuation effort in case Thawne had not arrived yet.

After pushing to the front of the crowd, Barry's eyes scanned for anyone he might know, preferably a detective. Unfortunately, however, it appeared as if very few people, if any, from the department's headquarters had arrived yet, though Barry did recognize somebody. While the various police stations across the city didn't interact on a day to day basis, they were a part of the same network and thus worked together when needed. As such, Barry had visited the other stations occasionally. Not enough to develop friendships with anyone, but acquaintances were all he needed.

"Hey, Frank!" Barry called out. The man turned towards him and squinted. "You know whose coordinating right now?"

The officer narrowed his eyes further before they popped open. "Barry Allen, right?" Barry nodded understanding that it had been awhile since he had seen the officer last. "Aren't you a lab rat? What are you doing out here?"

Barry shrugged, "I was assigned to this case, and those of us working on it figured it would be a good idea to help out until the crime has actually been committed and we have a scene to investigate."

The officer smirked, shaking his head. "We were told somebody from the main station will be heading the operation up, but you're the first person to arrive. Detective Leeway over there can decide how you are able to help."

The officer gestured past Barry, and Barry turned his head. In that direction stood a short woman in a detective's uniform glaring down a heavy man in a dress shirt. His already thinning hair exaggerated his anxious and frazzled expression. The woman kept most of her attention on the man and maintained a stern gaze as he rattled something in her direction, though she also held a walky-talky several inches away from her face and easily manipulated it without looking at it, bringing it closer to her ear to give and receive orders and information.

Barry turned back to the officer, "Thanks." He wandered over to Detective Leeway. As soon as he got close she glanced at him, though the man did not seem to notice his approach. "Um… I'm a CSI from the main station who's working on the arsons. I was told to help out until I could actually begin the investigation."

Detective Leeway looked him over her solemn expression only deepening. Finally, her eyes widened before narrowing even deeper than before. "Would you be willing to go inside the building?"

"Yes, I am willing." In fact, he had considered it earlier. It's just he would rather not go into a building which was about to burn down, if he didn't have to. "Would that really help?"

Detective Leeway shot a glare in the man's direction. "Unfortunately, the owners of the apartment didn't keep their alarms in working order. When we tried to sound the alarms to get people out of the building, they rang only on the first floor, so we have to send more people into the building in order to make sure everyone evacuates. Because you're technically not an officer, and unlike most people here you're not exactly dressed in a uniform, you're less likely to set the arsonist on edge." Detective Leeway took a deep breath. "The last thing we need is to have the building burst into flames without everyone evacuated _and_ a bunch of officer's inside."

The man shook his head, throwing up his hands. "I told you. We ran a complete test of the fire system five months ago, and we have the reports to prove it. The arsonist probably cut some circuits or something."

"And, we will look through those reports later to see if we have to charge you with negligence, but now we have to focus on getting people out of the building." Detective Leeway's eye twitched in frustration. It looked like she had had to say this to the man before.

"That wouldn't fit the arsonists MO," Barry reminded, "Though he doesn't mind killing, he is going out of his way to make sure people don't die." He turned back to Detective Leeway, his stomach sinking, "Where do you want me to start?"

Detective Leeway glanced back at the apartment complex, "We already have people working our way through the lower floors, so starting on the seventh floor of Tower A would be helpful." Detective Leeway pointed to the leftmost tower. "Also, make sure your cell phone is on and write your number down here. We want to make sure everyone gets out in time, including the people going in to help." She handed Barry a sheet of paper with lines for names and numbers.

Barry wrote his information down and passed the sheet back. "So, just knock and see if anybody is home. If so, warn them to leave?"

Detective Leeway nodded. "That's the plan. We also have people calling the rooms from the top floors down. If anybody is in the building, we should reach them. One last thing, go over to Officer Smith over there and pick up some sticky notes. We don't want to waste time double checking doors because we weren't systematic."

Barry nodded and walking over to the previously mentioned officer and grabbed seven stacks of sticky notes. The officer looked at him like he was crazy, but Barry wasn't exactly planning to go slowly. As an added failsafe, Barry grabbed a pen and flipped through the sticky notes, writing "Fire. Please, leave." on each one, as he moved towards the building. That way if any residents didn't open the door immediately, they still might get the message.

Tucking the pen into his pocket, Barry rushed into the building without exceeding normal human speeds. Another person came in behind him, but fortunately turned to the right towards Tower B, so as soon as Barry entered the staircase he was alone. Still, Barry glanced over his shoulder before tapping into his abilities for the third time that day.

Unfortunately, he couldn't go very fast in the staircase. The stares themselves weren't that bad, but they were wound into their case tightly. Every ten feet Barry had to pull the energy out of his body and go at normal speeds in order to make two ninety degree turns. Of course, he didn't stop completely when he wound around the flat portions of the stair case, and he managed get a rhythm going but it was still frustrating.

Before he managed to get to the seventh floor, a family came hurrying down the stairwell, and Barry slowed down. The mother was leading the child down the stairs by holding the child's hand, while the father walked behind holding a toddler. Presumably, they were the mother and father. For the most part, they were silent except for the toddler's confused yelps, though the mother occasionally prodded the child forward with a gentle 'come on.' Barry's stomach sank, and he looked at the ground while they passed. He hadn't expected to have to deal with children in the building, though the child could easily be homeschooled or, judging by its stumbles, taking a sick day.

As soon as they passed, Barry pressed forward and urged his bursts to be faster. Others needed to get out in time. He needed to warn them quickly enough so that he could also leave the building in time.

The seventh floor arrived not long after the family passed, and when Barry poked his head into the hall, all the doors he could see had neon green sticky notes stuck just below the peephole. Detective Leeway had apparently underestimated the efficiency of her own officers and volunteers, so Barry headed up the stairs one more time. But, Detective Leeway wasn't off by much because nobody had yet reached the eighth level. Or, at least, nobody with the sense to put up sticky notes had.

Barry darted at a door and jerked to a stop in front of it. He firmly pressed a bright pink sticky note up against the wooden panel before knocking hard enough that his knuckles rang. Barry exhaled. First one down; who knows how many left.

Barry willed himself forward. He felt his legs twitch. The world blurred for a millisecond. He found himself in front of the next door, and he applied the sticky note. Repeat.

However crucial the routine was, it quickly became monotonous. Most of the time nobody was home or at least nobody answered his banging on the door, and Barry had to accept that. As such Barry found himself pushing himself faster through the halls. He paused just long enough so that he could bang against the door hopefully loud enough to wake up anybody inside. After seeing one of the sticky notes drift to the floor after he darted on, Barry also slowed down just enough to keep a finger pressed against the adhesive paper as he left.

Still, with the energy dancing through his skull and bones, the task passed quickly. In fact, Barry was beginning to feel that perhaps he was getting better at using these new abilities, though how exactly was hard to describe. The best attempt Barry had was that energy was carrying over. Whenever Barry had stopped before, it had felt like something had drained the speed and spark from his bones and pulled it out of reach. Yet, now whenever Barry jerked to a stop, the spark didn't go away and in fact seemed to increase for that split second.

The lack of his abilities retreat made sense. As he familiarized himself with his abilities, stopping no longer meant rejecting his abilities as a whole, just that particular use in that particular moment, especially because he immediately had a new direction to which he could send that energy. Barry knew that one shouldn't anthropomorphize physical processes, that they don't want anything and don't have any goals, yet Barry was completely fine with saying at this point that his abilities wanted to be used and, so long as he placated them, they wouldn't leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Yet, the seeming burst in energy Barry felt when stopping in front of a door made absolutely no sense at all. Everyone can tell you that energy is conserved in the world, but there is also another rule most people tend to forget: energy prefers to go from low entropy states to high entropy states. Consider the fact that one can easily burn wood which releases the chemical energy of the logs through combustion into heat. That is part of the problem this building would face soon enough because even if large portions of the building are made of brick, a significant portion of the building materials. But, attempting to take raw heat and turn that into plant matter? The plants themselves were working with sunlight, some of the purest energy in existence, and yet it took them years to make the chemical structures which burned in minutes.

Hence, while Barry believed that the energy which he mentally experienced when drawing on his abilities was not completely metaphorical, at that point it was probably just chemical compound which aided in the speed's expression and not the speed itself. Not only would it take a considerable amount of effort to convert his momentum back into a chemical form, Barry could think of absolutely no mechanism which would allow for such a transformation.

In any case Barry was making progress, and it looked like he would cover a little over a hundred doors in a minute.

Once Barry was already twenty doors down (ten on one side of the hallway) from a door, when it opened. He had been in the middle of posting a sticky note, thumb pressing against the door panel, when he had noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye before he turned his head in that direction. As the significance of the change registered in Barry's mind, he jumped and then halted. It had been so easy to get lost in the task despite its mundane repetition, and Barry mentally slapped himself for not keeping an eye out for people when that was the whole point of the endeavor.

A head popped out of the door frame and glanced both directions down the hallway, eyes lingering on the bright pink pieces of paper before they locked onto Barry. They squinted. "What are you doing? Pulling a prank?"

The rest of Barry's body stood still as he shook his head vigorously. "No. Not at all. The building has received a fire threat, and for some reason the buildings alarms aren't working, so if you could please leave…" Barry fumbled the words and silence in his mouth, "that would be great." The resident continued staring blankly in Barry's direction. "We believe the threat is related to the recent arsons." Barry sent a pleading look in the resident's direction despite the fact that the resident was pretty far away and not giving Barry their full attention. While he couldn't blame the resident for their disbelief because this was rather strange news to receive, he really didn't want to have to argue with them.

The resident sighed looking up and down the hallway again. "And you're marking the doors you've visited?"

"Yeah…"

The resident walked back into their apartment. Barry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until the resident reemerged with a backpack. They walked over to Barry dropping a classic-yellow square into Barry's hands. "I never use these things anyways, and it would be a jerk of me to not help out at least with this floor"

"Thanks. I'll head up to the next floor then," Barry returned. The resident nodded and then continued past Barry.

Barry walked towards the staircase, glancing over his shoulder at the resident. Once he was sure that the resident was looking the other way, Barry flew down the hall and up the stairs before starting his march through the doors of the ninth floor. Early on in his sweep, Barry ran into two other residents of the apartment complex, though they weren't nearly as rude nor as helpful. The rest of the nineth floor, however, was unoccupied, and Barry quickly passed through it, repeating a similar procedure with the tenth.

Only after getting half way through the eleventh floor did Barry see anybody. This time it was a pair of officers turning around a corner while talking, causing Barry jump and stop. He didn't particularly recognize them, so while Barry didn't know everybody at the CCPD's headquarters, they were probably from a different station. The officers continued talking for a moment before they noticed him at which point they turned to each other. One of them gave a single laugh before calling over to Barry, "So, you're Mister Pink?"

Barry's jaw dropped slightly, "What?"

The other officer shook his head, "We were just commenting on how efficient the people with the pink sticky notes must be. Typically as we've been working the colors have alternated between our yellow and Officer Davies' and Officer Patrick's green, and then suddenly we hit three floors of pink. So, where's the rest of your group?"

Barry blinked. Oh, it would be odd if one person had done all those floors by himself; if he was going to do this more often, he would have to start coming up with good excuses. Wait, was he going to do this more often, and if so what was _this_? Using his abilities? Using them publicly to help people? Barry didn't know, but he would need to figure it out later. Now, he had to deal with the officers in front of him and after that deal with the rest of the people still in the building and possibly the fact that this building was going to burn down.

"Uh… Some people volunteered to help when I told them the news, but we split up. We bumped into each other earlier on this floor, but I haven't seen them since."

One of the officers smiled. "You've been having better luck than us, then. Occasionally people offer to call their friends on other floors, but often we have to wrestle with them to get them out of their apartment. When they hear that the fire isn't due to start for another fifteen minutes, they always want to go back and get their laptop, the family heirloom, the piggy bank, their good sheets…"

"Basically everything including the kitchen sink."

Barry shrugged, "Some people a floor back did want to take their sweat time until I reminded them that that was only an estimate and the building really could go up at any moment. That the arsonist has gotten impatient before. They still went back in to grab their electronics, but they didn't complain nearly as much as before."

"We'll keep that in mind. Sometimes people don't understand that we can't just wait for them since we need to know that they made it out but we have other rooms we need to do. As soon as they hear that the fire hasn't started yet, they think it isn't that urgent." The officer sighed deeply.

The other officer conceded, "Well, not everybody, but enough people that it's annoying. Enough chit-chat, though. Do you mind if we do the rest of this floor?"

Barry was about to shake his head 'no' and let them pass when he realized that they might discover that there were no other people in his group as he was fairly certain the resident had only agreed to do the rest of their own floor. Now that he thought about it he should check to make sure that they weren't still wandering around the building because they weren't going to receive a phone call when they needed to leave. "I'll take the rest of this floor. You guys can head up and do twelve."

The officers then turned around and walked towards a set of staircases which Barry had noticed with each pass but never used. Weighing his options, Barry decided that zipping along behind the officers would take too long, so he searched the floors he had previously covered for the resident. On this pass, Barry noticed that the yellow sticky notes continued partially onto the ninth floor because all he'd realized when passing the first time was that the room had already been checked. Considering how fast he had been going through them, the resident might not have had much of a chance to get much farther before heading up again. Therefore, before covering the last bit of the eleventh floor, Barry dashed over to the officers and asked them to get the resident volunteer's information if they happened to stumble across the person.

In the end, Barry stumbled across them on the thirteenth floor and sent the information to the detective's coordinating the evacuation. By this point Thawne had arrived and had answered the phone. "Barry? They said you might have entered the building. Is that true?"

Barry sighed. As much as his supervisor had wanted him to help out with the evacuation, Barry doubted Thawne wanted one of the taskforce's CSI's and the one person he had under his care to burn to a crisp. The thought that Barry hadn't exactly been trained to deal with these sorts of situations had been occasionally popping up when he occasionally stopped while working through the floors.

"Yeah." The word came out half way between a sigh and a groan as he reminded himself exactly what he was doing and where he was. He half-way expected to get chewed out.

Without waiting for a moment, Thawne responded, "K, what do you need?" The words tumbled without break out of his supervisor's mouth. But, he didn't seem to be worried over the situation

"Uh," Barry stammered at his supervisor's nonchalant attitude towards the situation. "Somebody volunteered to help. We need to get their contact information onto the sheet, so that they know when to leave."

The phone gave a buzz which somehow sounded like a smile. Barry raised an eyebrow both at the noise and his own mental reaction to it and waited. This time Thawne took a couple seconds to respond. "Put them on the phone, and I'll get their information." Barry handed the phone over to the resident and waited for them to get done, before the resident passed the phone back. Thawne said "Thanks," and the two hung up.

Barry turned towards the resident and gave half a smile. "Thank you. The sooner we get through all the floors, the sooner we can get out of here, so the help is greatly appreciated."

The resident smiled, "No problem."

And with that, Barry continued going through the floors. In fact, he reached the fifteenth and top floor of tower A with eleven minutes until the burn time which the arsonist had called in. Barry called Thawne and asked how far the group in Tower B. After a momentary hang up and recall, Barry found out. Apparently only to the tenth floor. Suddenly, Thawne hung up, so that he and the other Detectives at the evacuation site could presumably call everybody to make the switch. Meanwhile Barry raced through the stairs to get first down to the base floor and then up another set of stairs. He was only mildly surprised when the group working on the second tower still hadn't reached the eleventh floor when he arrived.

However, when they hadn't even made it to twelfth floor by the time he had arrived there, Barry got suspicious. He may be fast but the towers were tall, and having to constantly stop for turns on the stairs had slowed him down. Moreover, as he worked his way through a floor, he had to stop at each door, and he couldn't go too fast. If he did, he might forget to knock hard enough. The rolling of the air out of his way might push the sticky notes off of the doors. He might be too far down the hall once someone actually made it to the door. On top of that, the floors were big and the group on the tenth floor had had a head start. Whoever was working on that floor should have finished by then.

Barry took a few steps at a normal pace staring at the bare doors in front of him, before he shrugged it off, and darted forward, taking care of that floor and then another. They were surprisingly vacant. In all three of the floors, Barry had only encountered one person.

Half way through the fourteenth floor Barry felt is back pocket buzz and then a garbled version of his ringtone reached his ears. Barry stopped; the world became clear. Pulling the phone out, he glanced at the caller ID: Thawne. Another weird occurrence. Maybe this one will explain the previous one. "Hello?"

"Um, Barry?"

Thawne's speech came out so quickly that it almost sounded normal to Barry's ears, and Barry momentarily jerked the phone away from his head in surprising. Bringing it back to position, he slowly anounciated, "Yeah… ?" The temptation to speak back without slowing down pressed against his mind surprisingly hard. He missed having a conversation at a normal pace, or at least at a normal pace from his perspective.

Thawne took a deep breath, and said, at the speed Barry was growing accustomed to hearing, "Sorry, I discovered after we hung up that the people working the phones had already covered the top floors of Tower B. We've been telling everybody who had volunteered to go in to come out. Where are you?"

Barry glanced around, "Part way up Tower B." Well, it wasn't a lie. It's just that he only had one more floor to go.

"K. Well, sorry for not getting back to you earlier. You can come down now, though if your theory about the arsonist is correct, you should probably keep an eye out as you go."

"I will," and Barry hung up the phone call. Before putting his phone away, he glanced at the time. six more minutes. Barry took a few steps towards the stairwell without tapping his abilities. It was nice to not have the rush to get everywhere. The job was done.

Except the floors hadn't been completely empty. Almost empty. Nearly empty. But, he had run into a woman on the tenth floor who hadn't heard the news. And, because the others had missed her, there was nothing to say they couldn't have missed others. Barry sighed deeply. Out flew the relief and in returned the urgency. At least of everybody who had volunteered or, in light that some of them were officers doing their jobs, offered to go in Barry could sweep the final floor and make it out in time.

Barry furrowed his eyebrows, pivoted on a foot to turn around, and darted down the hall. At each door, Barry knocked, posted a sticky note, and moved on. By this point, Barry had run out of the pink inscribed notes, so the notes were now plain yellow and purely for his own benefit by helping him keep track of the doors he had already visited.

Fortunately, no one had remained in the building. Before the idea had been implied by Thawne and the surprising number of vacancies, but now Barry knew that for sure and could leave the building. Even as he continued running, Barry could feel tension leave his muscles and his steps lighten. While he didn't necessarily slow down, he stopped pushing himself so hard and let his speed adjust naturally with each step.

As he entered the stairwell and headed downward Barry found the constant stopping easier. He still knew that his body would strangely much prefer continued movement every time he halted, but the twinge of disappointment had lessened. Partly Barry felt in better control of his mind, but also as in the halls it felt more like a redirection of the energy that its removal. Furthermore, Barry was now able to time his turns just at the beginnings and ends of the stairs, so that he could make the downward push instead of gravity. Several times on his other trips up and down the stairs that sometimes gravity wouldn't act fast enough. He would take the last step going up or the first step going down, and suddenly he would find himself flying through the air for a second before his feet touched the floor again. It was always disconcerting.

As Barry passed the door to the fourth floor, a column of dry heat pushed up through the gap in the stairs and, spreading out into the staircase's gapes, passed over his skin. His ears picked up a crack and a rumble. Barry froze.

It hadn't been time yet, had it? Barry's hand darted to his phone and turned it on. Apparently, he was supposed to have two more minutes left, but as soon as the thought passed through his head, Barry realized his error. The arsonist had to be precise in some things, otherwise the fire would be impossible to control. However, time had never been one of them. Fires of this scale cannot be easily modeled, so the arsonist had to their eyes on the fire rather than a watch in order to know what was going on. Furthermore, the arsonist in general didn't seem to stick to a strict schedule. Sure, the arsonist called in and gave an approximation when they were going to start the fire, and they did give enough time for the building to evacuate, but they rarely ignited the building exactly on the minute they said they would. Even when going between floors, the arsonist always waited nearly an hour, but could cut off right then or extend longer and longer as their whims dictated.

Barry exhaled. At least the arsonist was consistent enough in waiting at least an hour and in going up the building floor by floor. As much as Barry didn't want to remain in the building, he didn't have to leave immediately. He took a deep breath. He had a moment to think.

After a few more deep breaths, he decided to call Julio and dialed the number. His friend picked up. "Barry! Where are you? I have been so busy combing through the crowd of evacuees and onlookers for potential arsonists that I haven't had a chance to track Thawne down and ask him about your whereabouts. I hope you made it here in time."

"Um… about that," Barry started, "How many floors have gone up?"

A groan erupted from the other end. "Just the one. Don't tell me you haven't even arrived yet!"

"I'll explain later. Thanks for the information. I need to go. Bye" and Barry hung up. He didn't mean to sound rude, but he couldn't exactly explain the whole situation. If it weren't for his speed he probably would have exited the building once he'd cleared the top floor of Tower A only to go back in _if_ they needed him to do so. He wouldn't have spent that time clearing floors which for the most part were empty. Hell, somebody else probably would have run into that last woman. Instead, he had run up Tower B, putting more space between himself and the exit, and now he was paying for it.

Mulling over his options, Barry realized that unfortunately the firefighters positioned right outside the building wouldn't be of much help unless he could make it to a window himself. If the arsonist already got edgy around police searching the building, the same could probably be said of firefighters, and it would do nobody any good if himself and the firefighters got burned alive because they made the arsonist jumpy.

Barry's eyebrow twitched. Finding an open window was not going to be easy. Barry presumed that individual apartments along the building's edge would have windows and balconies, but at no point during his sweep of the floors did he notice one accessible directly from the hallway. Well, he hoped somebody had left their door unlocked.

It took barely a thought before his feet pushed forward, heading towards the second floor. Those would be the next apartments to be lost, so he needed to check there before any open doors on that floor were no longer accessible.

An open door, however, was not the first thing strange Barry encountered. When he actually got to the stairwell, he noticed a gigantic pile of white hardened foam blocking him from going any lower. Not that he wanted to go any lower, but he had expected the decision to be a choice rather than almost running into something.

Barry looked over the structure in front of him. It covered the whole entire passage way in a bulbous heap though a few small holes existed through which flames licked and sparks rose, and in the center lay a gigantic hole using the cement lined staircase as a chimney. Though he appeared to be only feet away from the raging inferno which could peel the skin off his bones, the temperature wasn't _too_ uncomfortable. Unpleasant certainly, but not dangerous.

Barry experimentally put his hand against the substance. It felt cool to the touch. Scratching the substance with his finger tips and kicking it with his foot, Barry noticed that the substance was extremely hard and cemented well in place.

So, this was the fire retardant. Barry wasn't a fire expert, and even more so Barry specialized in biology. So, he hadn't seen very many fire retardants before, but this certainly looked different than he was expecting.

There were foams that hardened like that as soon as they hit air, so while this one probably delayed a little bit so that it could be positioned correctly, that aspect wasn't completely unbelievable. However, as a fire retardant it meant that it had to be laid down by hand as shooting it down a hall or through a window would end up clogging the opening rather than extinguishing the fire beyond it. Thus while the substance seemed to fit the arsonists needs quite thoroughly, Barry suspected something like this wouldn't be easy to hide, and he wasn't just referring to the fact that the arsonist would have had to lay it down by hand not long beforehand.

That was a good point though. The icy substance filled the whole entire staircase like a glacier, though it felt like sandpaper. And, it's bulbous curves suggested depth. How long would it take to lay something like this down? Then again, it seemed like dough caught mid-rise. Perhaps it expanded as it hardened.

However, Barry had been referring to the axiom that necessity is the mother of invention, and who but the arsonist would need this? Sure, whatever ideas lay behind this would be sought after by firefighting crews worldwide, but for reasons already mentioned, a more liquid-y form of the substance would better suit fire fighters needs for deployment purposes.

Yet, to invent something requires more than the skill and technical know-how demonstrated by the arsonist. It requires a creative spark in order to see things at a new angle and notice connections others have not, though Barry wouldn't put it past the arsonist to have that. It also requires time and patience to work out the kinks of an idea because things never go completely according to plan. The world is a complicated place of which one can only see a portion at a time, and thus Murphy's Law can strike.

Barry huffed. He really wasn't enjoying Murphy's Law right now.

But, on top of all of that, people rarely work well in intellectual vacuums. As a person works out the details, they often need others sometimes just to act as sounding boards and moral support during the frustrating moments, and even brilliant scientists and engineers build off of previous knowledge. If the scientific community knew the basic principles behind how such a substance would function, the substance would be an overarching goal of the firefighting community, as quantum computers are in IT, and the fire experts who had worked the case before would be amazed rather than stumped. The whole idea of the scientific community hammered in the idea further. Knowledge is trusted not by an individual's genius but rather by the community's hard work in testing and verifying the data and hypotheses.

Barry squinted, running his hand over the substance's bulging surface noticing small air pocket's just beneath his touch. Those air pockets that would have formed on the surface made the substance rough under his fingers. The arsonist may be drawn to fire, but they would want to trust the ideas which controlled it and kept them alive.

On top of that manufacturing the prototypes would not only take money but also equipment, and could most likely not be done alone. Add onto that what would be required to manufacture the material on this scale. No longer were we just talking about money. The substance would probably require very specific materials and equipment, which would leave a suspicious trail to be followed, and that is not considering any other people who might need to be involved. Things weren't adding up, even if the arsonist just so happened to be a genius.

Barry shook his head and cleared his thoughts. This substance was as intriguing as any mystery can be, but he needed to find a way out of here. Fortunately, the effort that would be required to lay it down meant that the arsonist was still in the building. Barry hoped the arsonist had a way out other than the first floor.

Finding such a way out would require searching, so Barry's feet took off down the hall. Yet again Barry encountered more of the substance before he found a single open door. This time however, it covered the floors, walls, and ceiling. It clung to the surfaces like frost or lichen though honestly it looked more like badly applied cake icing. Remembering that the two short staircases from the apartment's lobby was just around the corner, Barry decided to continue onward jumping onto the substance and continuing his run. It wasn't like any of the doors on this portion of the hallway would be useful even if they were open because Barry wouldn't be able to crack through the foam covering them. He could barely see them through the foam anyways.

On second thought he probably should not have made the decision in the split second after he saw the obstruction. As soon as he barreled down the hallway the temperature increased, spiking as he slowed down enough to swerve around the corner. Suddenly the temperature spiked, orange glowed, and smoke swirled.

Barry panicked and mentally jerked his abilities closer, so that he rocketed out the other side. He turned as quickly as possible before tumbling as the substance stopped as suddenly as it began. Barry stopped against a wall over fifty feet from the turn.

Looking back in the direction he came, Barry decided that he should have waited a moment to make the decision before rushing on ahead through the corridor. At this slower pace, the danger seemed obvious. Orange light sparkled against the foam walls at the hallway's end, while wisps of smoke darkened the ceiling. Barry heard the crackle of the flames very clearly, including what occasionally sounded like a cascade of sparks. Thinking back the temperature rose rather quickly, but if he had been paying attention or going a smidgen slower, he would have noticed it and turned around. Those were all signs that the opening at the stairwell to the lobby was bigger than the opening in the staircase.

Though in Barry's defense despite the different application of foam, he had been expecting a similar set up to before. While he rolled over and got up, he noticed a few pinprick embers on his sweater which were already dying, but more immediately he noticed his skin and particularly any sections that had been exposed, had become sensitive.

However, Barry decided he wasn't too hurt and started figuring out if he needed to rework his route. There had been a hall which went straight out from the staircase in the opposite direction from his turn. On second thought that went straight through the center of the building right bellow the split in the two towers. He wouldn't find any windows there, and any apartments with balconies which that hallway could reach, he could probably arrive at by working his way along the outside of the building.

Then, Barry thought he heard something in the direction of the lobby other than the fire's stuttering. He jerked his head towards the foam covered portion of the hallway in time to see a jet of fire pierce the scene. The straightness of the trajectory and the tightness of its spread Outlined in red, its blue center betrayed its true intensity, and the foam, which had withstood the searing heat of the first fire shrunk back as if evaporating.

Barry simply stood, unsure of what to do.

Finally the sound crystallized against its chaotic background as a voice. "Listen! I know I heard something, and I know the police took a ridiculous amount of time to evacuate the building, but that's no excuse to leave someone behind to spy on me." As it dawned on Barry what was happening, he rushed behind the next corner, which actually wasn't too far is the hallway compensated for the lobby and reached the building's front. Barry still poked his head around the corner to see what was going on. A man walked into sight, roaring, "I know I am not seeing things!"

He wore a white protective suit from head to toe, only distinguished by orange at the seams. Though it appeared loose enough for easy movement and thick enough to provide some insulation, it also fit the man surprisingly well, and Barry guessed it was tailored specifically for him and his needs. The man had something over his back, looser than a tank but stiffer than a backpack, though the tubes sticking out of it hinted that it functioned more similarly to the former than to the later. Two smaller tubes ran up to a facemask the man was wearing, which other than the orange-lined eye shields, provided one of the sole pieces of the man's suit not covered in white fabric. Two larger tubes hung beneath the man's arm and connected with a device. From this distance it resembled a gun, though it was too thick around the barrel. In his left hand he held a bag made out of the same white fabric as his suit.

The man scoffed and kicked the floor. "Fuck it." He fiddled with his gun before aiming it at the wall and firing a spray of foam.

Barry swallowed.

The man had just walked through the fire like it was nothing. Sure, the man was wearing a protective suit, but just being in there for a mili-second made Barry feel like he had a full-body sunburn. Just the idea of spending more time in that inferno made Barry shrink back around the wall, out of sight.

His heart dropped.

If the man could casually stroll through the flames without batting an eyelash, he already had a way out: through the first floor and out the lobby. There was no guaranteed escape plan, no door to the outside waiting for him.

He shook at the thought.

Just great. This was not how he wanted to be proven right. Sometimes it is better to see things with one's own eyes, and Barry didn't know how he would have gathered the evidence to support his claim. But coming face-to-face with an arsonist, who despite occasionally showing compassion and concern for those inside the buildings had also burned a squad of policemen alive for getting too curious, was not Barry's preferred method of investigation. He didn't have anything against those who took up that approach, but it wasn't for him.

Breathing deeply to calm himself down, Barry turned his head around the corner again. The man stood facing one of the inner doors, gun pointed at the ready before blasting the door, this time not with foam but with a jet of blue fire. The man then manipulated the gun so rapidly and precisely that the actions were instinct before kicking the weakened wood in and spraying the door's remains with foam. The man walked in, giving Barry some more time to think.

What was he even doing? Barry wasn't sure whether he was asking this of himself for not running away in search of a door or of the arsonist's choice to enter the room. He'd first focus on the arsonist.

Time for a mental tally of what was out of place. First, the arsonist was entering a room rather than focusing on setting up for the next burn by spraying down the next set of stairs so that lighting this floor a blaze won't immediately cascade up the building. Unless he really was doing something to prepare for igniting future floors. Which brought Barry to the other odd thing about the arsonist: his bag. The rest of the man's get up was functional: a fire resistant suit to help him walk through the building unharmed, a gun which could both start and put out fires, a pack to help fuel the whole enterprise. In fact, all of that seemed to get the job done. What was in the bag?

Barry scoured his recollection of the report, trying to find some explanation, when his eyes widened in revelation. The bag wasn't for the current low temperature burns. It contained explosives for the secondary explosions, and the arsonist was planting them now rather than wait until he came down. Whatever protection that suit gave, Barry doubted that the man wanted to be caught in those secondary blasts. He probably detonated them behind him as he left the building.

Perhaps without the extra explosives, the arsonist would reconsider burning the rest of the building down.

Ok. That was a long shot. Yet, that didn't mean there wouldn't be advantages to relieving the arsonist of this load. The biggest thing that came to mind is that more evidence might survive the fire, and Barry was thinking of that foam in particular. Analyzing its composition would be key to tracking the arsonist down.

Pressing his hand against his forehead, Barry realized all the flaws in this plan or rather _the_ flaw in his plan. Where would he go? Run up and check for more windows? While there was always a chance somebody had left their door open, Barry didn't feel that confident about it. Nearly everyone Barry had to be hurried to leave, especially because they wanted to bring their stuff out with them, and if they weren't allowed to bring their stuff out, why would they leave their doors open for another evacuee to take it. The attitude was pitiful and ridiculous, but it was humanity. And, it wasn't like the front lobby was an option either as he had discovered. Even if the bombs were made to be able to stand the lower, but still really high, temperatures of the first burns, he couldn't. His skin had discovered that on the first run through.

Except it didn't sting nearly as sharply as he remembered. In fact, his palm pressing against his forehead was just mildly uncomfortable.

Not that he enjoyed the thought of running through hell again, but if he survived and made it out of the building he would be grateful. Plus, the lobby was small and if he went fast enough perhaps the fire wouldn't have time to burn him much. At least he hoped so.

Barry pulled his abilities closer, both in anticipation and anxiety, but the debate raged on. Going out the lobby was not preferable, and there might be another way. Or there might not, and he might have to leave out the front door. And by the time he discovers that there actually isn't a way out, the arsonist will probably have made it to other floors and by then he won't just have a lobby to go through. But, he might be able to think of another way out of here. Or not. This was an opportunity. It was a risk. The other option was a chance and a wish. Barry waited for the arsonist to emerge and force a decision.

Eventually the man came out, and Barry zipped behind the corner again. He breathed slow breaths all the way down to his stomach and counted. With each count his breathing and mind slowed down, though without much in motion to judge by other than the man's shifts and footsteps it wasn't obvious.

He hadn't used this trick since his second time he had attempted to access his abilities at home back. Then, he had felt like the abilities had landed him in a dark unfamiliar room and he had to find his way to the other side by touch and sound alone. Unfortunately, he had bumped into things along the way and not always metaphorically. Somehow, however, he was beginning to feel strangely at home with the abilities. Not that they were easy, because they weren't, or that they were safe, because Barry had no idea, but that it felt natural and right for him to have them even when he was sure the abilities were not manipulating his thought processes. Then again using them as much as he did today was bound to have some effect on how comfortable he felt with them.

But, if he was going to do this, he was going to need all the speed he could get. On the count of five, Barry put down his mental barrier and let his abilities rush in before he started grabbing at them and pulling, no tugging, them closer. The sliver was pleased and opened wider than it had before. The speed force, eager, rushed through Barry's soul and into his veins, bones, nerves, and muscle.

Barry turned, stepped into the hall, and barreled at the arsonist. He stopped beside the arsonist, but he didn't toss the kinetic energy harvested from the moment back into the speed force. Instead the sliver remained wide open, and Barry kept the extra energy as he was learning to do. He immediately started toward snatching the white padded bag.

The speed force was happy because while it knew humans often needed to stop and go slow, it hated the action or rather inaction. Though it often didn't know how to do so, it liked helping, and even more so it liked movement.

Though the man was strong and had a firm grip, he didn't expect anyone else to be on the hall -despite his earlier claims- let alone did he expect someone to nab his bag. As such his grip on the bag had been loose and relaxed. Barry could easily slip the handle between the man's fingers, and his quickened perception let him do this before the man realized what was going on, though his fingers had already started to clench at the open air. Barry glanced back at the man's covered face before rushing off. In response, the man jumped, looked at his empty left hand, and then fired a blast of heat at the space where Barry had been. Seeing an enflamed wall rather than a scorched thief, the man changed the gun over to foam and robbed the fire of its heat before his eyes scanned the hallway, confused.

But, by that point Barry was already gone, having darted into the foam covered corridor, pivoted, and ran straight into the blaze. All he had been was a flicker in the man's peripheral vision.

He closed his eyes as he entered. Vision wouldn't do him while there; the flame's orange and yellow dance provided plenty of light but with only other flames and smoke surrounding it, there was nothing to illuminate. The heat meanwhile would have caused Barry's eyes to squint and tear themselves to uselessness. It was already causing him to cringe and cough when he needed to focus and breathe. So, instead Barry ran with his finger tips bouncing along the wall beside him, and he waited for the wall to end and the first staircase to the lobby to begin.

The wall stopped. Barry pulled himself to a stop and spun to the right.

While maintaining the pace he took two steps forward without bursting into a sprint before he finally felt the drop of the first step. Flying through the air now, when he couldn't see the ground's approach, might be catastrophic; he wasn't quite sure what would happen if he landed wrong, but he knew it wouldn't reduce his time in hell. Having found the steps though, Barry took off in a sprint, thanking the architectural deities for the regularity of stairs world over.

Meanwhile Barry continued navigating the world through touch alone. That was difficult because, though not useful, the roar and cackle of fire, the glow behind his eyelids, and the smell and taste of soot proved distracting. At the same time, every inch of his skin and lungs screamed reminding him that at least the nerve endings still functioned.

Still, Barry paid attention to the contact of his feet with the floor, forgoing the dragging of his fingertips across the wall because at this point it wouldn't be covered in the refreshing cold foam barrier. In fact, the surface could be searing if the wall's interior was providing fuel to the fire. He felt the staircase's end by his foot hitting the floor unexpectedly. He barely even slowed down to correct his course before he tapped his abilities even deeper and shot forwards. His left hand reached outward and not long afterwards made contact with a spike of heat which caused his arm to reflexively jerk away. He stopped and pivoted.

Barry hoped that was the front wall, and he squinted his eyes open. A gap in the flames. Sunlight. The front doors were made of glass.

The next thing Barry knew the glass broke around him, sunlight touched his still sizzling skin, and cooler air caressed his cheek. Relief flooded into his veins. While Barry's lungs still itched and burned from the smoke and soot, he immediately started breathing deeper. Not having any use for it further, Barry tossed the bag to the side and continued forward.

However, the crowd made Barry hesitate. Still squinting from the smoke, it appeared as odd band of pixilated and smeared colors with depth perception adding some definition. With Barry still focusing on getting away from the fire, his first reaction had been to stop before he ran into somebody. Indeed slowing down was a good idea because there was no way he could have navigated the crowds running as fast as he was. Perhaps he would have managed not to hit somebody, but Barry wasn't even sure of that so in any case he probably would have bounced around as aimlessly as a molecule of gas or a photon exiting the sun's core.

But, Barry fortunately managed to prevent himself from executing the complete stop before entering the crowd. Almost as soon as he began the thought processes associated with a stop did he remember that he was trying to keep his abilities a secret. Suddenly a blur stopping to form a person in front of a crowd and even more so in the direction in which the crowd was probably looking would not help in that regard. Thus, only after weaving his way into the middle of the accumulation of residents and onlookers, Barry jerked to a stop and those around him reasoned that they merely hadn't noticed him before in the crowd's flow and twist.

The world sharpened while Barry halted. The people ceased to be pillars of color and substance and gained features and form. The street transformed from a grey smear beneath his feet to having texture and a glint. The air moved around him ant touched his skin attempting to cool it.

Attempting being the key word.

Barry's skin remained a bright red. The edge of Barry's skin still stung, but more worrisome was the slight tingling sensation that went straight into his muscle. Shit. He was still burning.

Moreover, for the first time since waking up, Barry felt out of breath. The flames had horded the lobby's oxygen while running had turned Barry's body into a glutton for the reactive non-metal. The smoke and soot which hung in the air prevented Barry's lungs from reaching what oxygen existed in the room. Not breathing meant suffocation. Breathing meant another layer of burning particles against his lungs. Some of the particles would stick to his throat and lungs making Barry occasionally hack even as he ran.

Now Barry felt the heat in his lungs and the taste of soot on his tongue. He wheezed and coughed before darting off in search of water, preferably cold water. Fortunately, he found several bottles in a cooler being handed out to evacuees because without knowing the area he would be lost and each second counted. Once he snatched two he ran two an unoccupied alleyway and leaned against the wall resting for a moment.

Barry pulled off his sweater and rolled back his sleeves before he poured the water against his arms. He sighed in relief despite of how the action pained his lungs. Immediately, the tingling sensation disappeared, absorbed into cool water running over his skin. His arms still felt overly warm, but it was better.

In that moment, Barry was at least thankful that he had not been in the fire very long. His gut feeling told him that a fraction of a second later and it would have taken more than a bottle of water to remove the heat. A full second later and blisters would have formed and his muscles would have begun to curl. Even though they might have helped get him in that position to begin with, at least his abilities were good for something.

However, it wasn't just Barry's arms which felt like they were still on fire, so Barry rolled up his pants and repeated the process. He then moved onto splashing water onto his torso, back, and face. He closed his eyes, took a couple deep breaths, and leaned against the alley's wall. He felt some other energy run under his skin replacing the burning sensation, and somehow it reminded him of the feeling associated with his abilities. But, he wasn't moving fast, and it didn't even seem to want him to move. It asked him to stay still, if just for now, and let it work. Barry complied. His body was no longer sustaining damage from the heat, but that didn't mean he was comfortable.

Barry opened his eyes and took a swig from the other bottle before looking back at the apartment complex.

The second floor burst into flames. It seemed a bit early, but Barry wasn't going to trust his sense of time any more. Instead he shrugged the thought off and drank more water, letting the fabulous liquid flow down his throat before tossing some more water onto his still warm face and coughing up some black mucus.

Yet, he was willing to trust the fact that the explosion which followed a half a minute later was out of place, especially because he thought he had taken the explosives from the arsonist. At that point Barry's eyes stayed fixed on the apartment complex in confusion and curiosity. Well, that had been one idea about what was in the bag, and the one that had made the most sense at the time. At least he now had a hint, a lead, as to how the arsonist was working, so long as he was the one to run any prints found on it. He wasn't exactly sure how he would explain to Julio how he had gotten a hold of the bag to begin with if his coworker were to process it.

Then, the first floor erupted. According to Barry's eyes, a ball of red expanded then popped like a gigantic red bubble against the building's edges and windows. The latter, like the bubble's skin, burst outward. Next, pillars of smoke poured out of all of these openings as the fire consumed the last bits of flammables. It swarmed around the building's base before ascending upwards.

Barry guessed that the arsonist was making his way out with the smoke as cover. At this distance and with the crowds thronged between himself and the building, Barry had no hope of catching a glimpse of the man, but he squinted in that direction anyways. He hoped that the arsonist would not retrieve the bag in the smoke either because the bag was far enough out that the black mass of particulate matter had not yet reached it or because the arsonist could not find it inside the darkness.

But, hope was all he did. He was in no shape to go searching for the man in the smoke, and he wasn't sure what he would do if he found the man. Plus, now that both the residents and himself were outside the building, Barry's mind returned to its previous position on his abilities: caution. He'd used them a lot today, and it would be for the best if he didn't use them again until he ran the experiments.

So, Barry waited and watched as the crowd shifted and the smoke lifted from around the building.

As that happened a figure emerged from the crowd and headed towards him. At a glance, Barry could tell it was Julio. Barry immediately turned away knowing full well that it wouldn't stop his lab mate's advance, and indeed Julio soon called out, "Barry! There you are!"

Barry looked up at his friend, "Yep. Here I am."

Though by his own ear and Julio's expression Barry could tell that he didn't sound his best, his throat and lungs felt better than before. Still Julio looked Barry up and down and replied, "Dude, are you ok?"

"I was um…" Barry's mind scrambled for a decent excuse, "too close to the building when the first floor went up. Got hit by a blast of hot air and smoke, but I'll be fine."

"I did run into Thawne not too long ago, and he said you had gone into the building while I was caught on telephone duty. You must have been one of the last people out." A small laugh. "So, you ready for that explanation yet, or do I have to wait until you've recovered for that?"

Barry blinked a couple times. "Oh, yeah…" His call to Julio earlier had been rather mysterious, and he had promised his friend an explanation later, hadn't he? Too bad he didn't have one his friend would believe. "I was a little out of it at the time, and I didn't exactly have a good view of the other floors." Not entirely a lie. He had been freaking out, and without visiting the other floors Barry would have had no idea of their status.

Julio squinted his eyes and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't comment on it. "Well, at least you're here. I was worried that I'd have to cover for you, and it doesn't seem that Thawne hasn't quite caught on that you only BS excuses in order to work on cases like these, not to get away from them." Julio shook his head. "This time you could probably just walk up to him, and he'd give you the day off if he is any sort of reasonable."

"I don't need the day off," Barry grumbled. Unfortunately, as the pain receded another feeling was taking its place. Instead of reminding Barry about the fact that he had just made it out of a raging inferno, the feeling reminded him that he had run thirty miles to get here on top of who knows how many miles inside the building and that he still hadn't had lunch. His stomach growled. "Food, however, would be nice."

Julio looked back at the building. "It will probably still be a while before the fire's completely out, so why don't we take our lunch break? You honestly won't be a good partner or even just sounding board if every other thought you have is about filling that bottomless pit you call a stomach."

Barry wiped the layer of smoke off of his watch. "It is close to lunch time. I'll go clear this plan with Thawne, so he doesn't wonder where we've wondered off to." He then looked Julio in the eye. "And, it is possible for me to get full, so it is just a very deep pit, not a bottomless one."

Julio stepped backwards, making his way out of the alley. "I'll believe it when I see it."

And, Julio wasn't going to see it today. It had been a big day for Barry; he had done things he hadn't expected to do in his life, and as such he was going to be very hungry. Barry would have even done most of them again because there were people who had made it out because of him and he was alive and… not well but soon to be so again. It had also been nice to let go and not worry about whether his abilities were going to hurt him because he had had something bigger to think about. Indeed, though Barry wasn't going to consciously admit it, he would definitely do it all again.

Excluding running through a fire. He wouldn't do that again unless he really had to.

**Note:**

Dear Barry,

I hope you enjoyed your adventure today. Well, enjoyed isn't quite the word; I doubt anybody but Heat Wave enjoys walking through fire like that, and even he has admitted to getting a smidge uncomfortable at times. You wouldn't be exactly the man I expected you to be if you took pleasure in that.

What I mean to say is that I hope this hasn't discouraged you from your journey. It is your first time doing such a thing, putting yourself directly in harm's way to help others, and thus it was such a critical moment. You needed to see what good you could do. Moreover, it couldn't be too difficult. Though I doubt I alone could break your story, if you were discouraged at all because of me from taking this course, I would be broken. All my hard work dashed by an error. Because it hurt too much. Because you thought yourself not up to the task. Because of some other thing I hadn't noticed.

Yet, I also had to make sure it was not too easy. At worse it would feel fake, a set up purely for your sake. At best, you would still know that it was easier than normal. The task wouldn't have proved anything to you, about what you can do, about the hero you could be.

Oh, I'll say that when you walked through the CCPD's doors, I had gotten excited for this. I almost wanted to have the arsonist set that building ablaze right then. He was eager to do it too, though not as eager as everyone paints him out to be. He understands the value of laying low every once and a while. But, it was only almost. I knew that in any case you would need to find out what your new position would be, settle in, and know what you were getting into. Though, I would have preferred not to deal with the dreadful rumor. It all ended well enough with you believing what you'd like, but I disliked slipping my hand with Patty and yourself.

At the same time, I noticed something else: you were hesitant to use your powers. I should have predicted it really. You were the first of your kind with no one to guide you, not even a story of a previous Flash not torn from comic pages to direct you and show you that it will be ok. Everyone else forgets how spoiled they are now that you've lit the way. (Or should I say will light the way? A bag falling out of the air isn't exactly going public.) Well, in a way I had seen this coming; I want to be here and to help guide you. I just didn't expect you to broadcast it so clearly. Your hold on the speed force is still shaky as if you aren't sure whether to hold it close or push it away.

The point is I also needed to give you the time to accept it as it already accepts you. Hell, accepts is to light a word for its feelings towards you. It clamors towards you, waiting for a command. This is partially the speed force; in my experience, if it knows you can access it, it acts like an attention-starved puppy. But, you and it share a special connection, one that can only be imitated let alone surpassed though experience and talent, because, not only did it make you the way you are, but you make it. It felt like a crime to watch you just push it away.

Imagine the pleasant surprise then when you came in this morning holding back. Not holding it at bay but holding back. It can be a subtle distinction, especially in how it affects the speed force, but it was there. You weren't entirely ready; your grip still trembled in fear.

But, you were as ready as you were going to be, and I was getting impatient. I had given you a day and a half to get ready, two days by some standards. I had wanted to get this show on the road, and here we are.

Hell. It seems after that little stunt you pulled, your grip tightened. I wish I could actually say this to your face –it's not like you'll get this note anyways - but good luck.

From,

A Fan


	12. Chapter 11: Investigation

Wow, I am actually getting a five thousand word chapter out at a reasonable time. I managed this because I'd started it while I was dealing with the technical difficulties I had encountered while working with chapter 10. I also bugged my beta's because I figured you guys deserved to not wait forever. Also, my reasons to do the author's notes differently continue.

But the more important thing is the chapter itself and here it is:

**Chapter 11: Investigation**

Barry and Julio got back to the burn site as the fire was just flickering to an end. All that was left were embers really with only the occasional lick of a flame every now and then. Not that you could see much at this point. The windows were dark with at most the coldest glow emanating behind them, though any windows which had been blown open now left dark trails leading upward on the previously orangish-brown bricks. More notably, the third and fourth floors had caught eventually, but this time through the normal mechanizations of fires, and not through the arsonist's pushing. It was without the arsonist's containment as well, but such were most fires.

The firefighters could go in at this point, though no one else was allowed to approach the structure. A spark could reignite an untouched piece of fuel near where a person was standing. A weakened beam could fall on top of somebody. Natural fire, without the use of portable flamethrowers or spray-on fire retardants, was unpredictable. A flick of the air or a drop of moistness in the wood can produce a slow hidden burn which waits to strike.

Now Barry was full and healed; he had eaten more than he had before, and his skin was still pink yet it was a healthier shade, one which signified new growth rather than further damage. He was torn between an ache to head in and really start his job and the desire to avoid the structure for the rest of the day.

Fortunately, Barry knew that he at least had something to do outside of the building.

When Barry had asked Thawne for the time off, his supervisor had been facing away from him and arguing with somebody. An unfamiliar voice spoke up, "How could that thing have anything to do with your investigation? It was at least forty feet from the building when we found it. Somebody probably dropped it on the way out. We were planning to ask around to see whose it was." The sound of eyes rolling.

Another voice piped up, "I told you. The blur-streak-thing dropped it. Once the fire had started." The voice floated through the air like a helium balloon or a laugh.

Barry's eyebrow twitched. He hesitated. Just as he was about to tap Thawne on the shoulder, Thawne spoke up, "First, forty feat is within our perimeter, so we have to consider it possible evidence until we know otherwise. And, we can take care of returning the bag to its owner once we've determined that indeed a resident dropped it while leaving the building." The two others pouted but shrugged it off and left. Thawne turned to another detective beside him. "Please tell me they didn't get into the darn thing."

The detective shook her head. "No. 'Caught them as they were running back with it and saw them on their way there."

"Thank god." With the conversation seemingly over, Barry finally got Thawne's attention. "There you are. Most of the volunteers and officers had checked in afterwards. It wasn't required so it's fine that you didn't do it. But, glad to at least know you made it out. Though…" Thawne looked Barry over, "Are you all right?"

Barry forced a smile and shrugged, "I was a little too close to the building when the first floor went up. I'm fine though." He wrapped his arms around his stomach hoping that it wouldn't feel the need to speak up. "Julio and I wanted to get something to eat at this point… before we went back to work."

Thawne sighed. "Fine. Go ahead. I'll need you and Julio able to think when you guys finally get around to examining this stuff. We'll hold down the fort until then."

Barry's eyes glanced over at the other detective, "So, there is already stuff to look at outside of the building?" His stomach hated him for asking, but he needed to know what happened to the bag.

The detective standing next to Thawne shook her head again, this time more slowly. "Unfortunately, yes." She almost laughed. "I hate to agree with stoner-boy, but something exited the building too fast for me to see. I wouldn't completely believe my own eyes except I'm sure those front doors had been holding steady enough against the fire. Suddenly the doors were broken with flames shooting out like they were pulled along by something, and a bag was falling out of the air… Not sure what good it will do, but something that suspicious you ought to keep on hand… "

The detective looked at Barry but also past him as if she was trying to convince herself of these facts as well. Barry nodded back, sorry not to provide her with reassurance that she had seen something and wasn't crazy.

Before Barry could speak however, Thawne's hand was clamped on Barry's shoulder, and his supervisor was glaring him down. "Go." Barry swallowed. "Eat and come back quickly. I want this bag and any others like it catalogued before the fire department gives us access to the site." He held onto Barry for another moment muttering, "And, please, get the glass shards out of your hair before you come back." Barry's eyes widened. Thawne's statement was half threat, half friendly advice.

Again, Barry nodded, but this time his movements were stiff rather than casual. Thawne released him, and Barry wandered through the crowd towards Julio. At some point he stopped to gently brush a hand through his hair; indeed, several small pieces of glass fell on the ground. Twice as many specs of glass stuck to his hand and required careful plucking to ensure none got stuck. Thawne was right. They were probably giving his hair an odd sparkle, which he wouldn't want to explain or, forgoing the fact that he had half of an explanation, want people to notice and linger upon. Yet, it would also take a while, so he would save the work for later. Because food trumped basically everything else right now.

And, so he found Julio who had looked up a fast food place within walking distance on his phone. The two coworkers walked, and Barry enjoyed the leisurely pace. Fast enough to calm, slow enough to heal. When they arrived, he ate more than he'd care to admit. He then excused himself to the bathroom where he ran a wet paper towel through his hair to catch the remaining pieces of glass with something other than his skin. Giving himself a look down, Barry bemoaned the state of his clothes; he could toss his sweater in Julio's car, but there was nothing he could do about his jeans, which were quite a few shades darker except for some ripples around the joints. At least jeans with stylized ware aren't unheard of. He also noticed that his skin felt mostly normal again, and while his lungs weren't happy, they were no longer in pain. It was time to get back to work.

The first thing he discovered when he arrived back was that the bag was not filled with explosives but rather valuables. Mostly jewelry, though a few stacks of higher-value bills and electronics with cables still attached made it into the mix. Julio did not find this surprising, but then again Barry didn't have an easy way to tell Julio that he'd seen the arsonist, or at least a man with a flamethrower and a fireproof suit, in the building carrying it. Barry couldn't explain his thought processes when he first saw the bag.

Fortunately, it wasn't completely innocuous. The valuables didn't look like they belonged to one person. While there was only one tablet crammed in there, it had three smart phones stuffed into the corners. Even if the bag had belonged to a whole family, anyone old enough to own a smart phone would carry it out themselves. Despite the fact that the jewelry filled most of the bag's volume, each piece contained a valuable gem marking them more valuable than your standard ring, earing, or necklace. If somebody had owned the whole bag, they wouldn't have lived in this apartment. If somebody had owned the whole bag, they wouldn't have dropped it.

None of the officers nor the few volunteers who had helped clear the building had seen the bag before though all claimed to have waited until anybody they encountered left the rooms. If somebody did drop it, they would have had to have lived on the first floor.

Thawne asked somebody to seek owners for the items before heading off for his own lunch, and soon a detective was leaning over the two CSI's taking more pictures in addition to their own. It would take some time sorting through the crowd to find potential claims, and even then they would wait until they had secondary verification before it could be used as hard evidence. Still, Barry had the idea that the bag's contents would have an amalgamation of owners.

Julio even pointed out that it looked like loot. Barry agreed. So that's what the arsonist was doing in the room. Stealing. That would put a different spin on the profile.

What surprised Barry even more about the bag's contents, however, was that they were almost perfectly intact despite all the heat stress which the fire had put them through. The arsonist had walked casually through the fire like it was nothing, and now that Barry knew he only had his flamethrower with him to start the fires, he must have been down on first when that floor went up. Barry's run with it was quick, but it was another straw on the proverbial camel's back.

Yet, the dollars were smooth rather than crisp, and the jewelry was only warm to the touch like it had sat out on a bright summer day. Barry knew that the bag had been latched shut, but it still seemed a bit fortunate. Another thing he wasn't quite sure how to bring up to Julio.

Still, Barry looked over the array of objects they had laid out on a tarp and then turned to Julio, who was looking at the bag itself. "So what do you think?"

Julio shrugged. "Somebody wanted to take advantage of the panic caused by the impending fire and make a few bucks. It's sad but plausible. Too bad the kids who found it ran off before we could get their prints. At this point it will be hard to tell who had attempted to make off with the stuff."

Barry sighed. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about anybody else accidentally discovering his prints on the handle, which would be rather awkward. "How about where the bag came from. Detective Rickard mentioned the kids who brought it in had picked it up not too far from here. Why would somebody trying to steal things just up and drop it?"

"Cut to the chase," Julio sent him a deadpan glare. "Detective Rickard also said the bag had popped out of the air, and you're more likely to believe that than I am." Julio shook his head. "Those kids would have been easy suspects, but apparently neither Rickard nor Thawne got the impression that they would have thought about placing it there than coming back for it in a ruse. But, that is the whole question isn't it? Why would anybody leave this behind. And for that matter, why did the arsonist not burn the whole building as usual? It's as if something spooked him, though I have no idea what."

"My turn for questioning you." Julio's eyebrows knit together and he turned back to the bag. "Does this feel cool to you? Also I don't exactly recognize the fabric. It's definitely a synthetic, but something's off about it."

Barry held his latex covered hand out and received the pile of cloth. Indeed the white, smoke-dotted fabric was cooler than the air. He pulled the metal latches open, and these felt uncomfortably warm under his fingertips. Yet placing his hand inside, he noticed that it felt like a refrigerator. As his fingers brushed against the bag's grey interior, he realized that it was the fabric itself providing the cooling.

"Fabrics aren't exactly my specialty, but it is cool, and that gives me an idea." Barry got up and requested a lighter off of one of the officers who smokes. Julio immediately started complaining that this was a bad idea, but Barry ignored him and placed the lighter next to the bag and lit. The flame couldn't penetrate the bag but instead spread around it.

"You know I would have waited until we got back to the lab to do that, and I would have taken a small sample first. You know so that the whole bag wouldn't go up in flames, and Director Singh wouldn't roast my head for dinner."

Barry smiled back. "Good thing I wasn't wrong then." And, Barry waited for Julio to draw his own conclusions.

"Yeah, well, it certainly is suspicious… Maybe the arsons are less motivated by pyromania as originally thought but a scheme to cause panic and clear the building, so they have a chance to loot it. It would make sense, then, that they wouldn't want a lot of officers in the complex if they were busy trying to strip it of its valuables during that time."

Barry pressed his lips together. "It seems like a lot of effort for a little loot, as you so described it. The arsonist would have around twenty minutes to clear the building unless they had some way of surviving the fires they are igniting. That stuff would probably be their best bet, but I would hardly believe it comes cheap. So, I doubt that the arsonist is completely indifferent to fire." Barry titled his head, "Also, what would they have done this time now that the building was crawling with officers and volunteers searching for people to evacuate?"

"As much as I hate to say it, what is the use of a flameproof bag if you don't expect to encounter the fire directly," Julio raised a finger, "I'm not saying that the arsonist is walking around in the flames. I can't be sure, without testing, that even that fabric could keep the arsonist cool in there, but… they'd certainly be willing to cut it closer. And, remember this time the arsonist didn't act as usual." Julio frowned. "Maybe somebody didn't make it out in time, and that gave the arsonist the spook."

"I hope not," Barry returned as he walked off to return the lighter to its proper owner. At least Barry hoped it wasn't somebody other than himself. No one else could get out.

And, maybe he had startled the man. The man had been disturbed enough by just Barry's first run through the blazing hallway; having something his eyes could barely follow nab his bag right out of his hands would probably cause a full blown freak out. Knowing what he knew now about the bag's contents and the arsonist's reaction, Barry wasn't sure if it was worth it. He'd have to see how the investigation panned out to discern that.

Not long after the CSI's finished processing the bag and had helped locate the owners for a couple pieces, Thawne returned. "I just talked with the fire department. They're going to let us in with some people to supervise us."

Barry and Julio shared a glance. So it wasn't safe enough yet without supervision? Still, they both followed Thawne and the firefighter into the building. They halfway listened to the firefighter's description of how the fire department had worked to stabilize the building both structurally and thermally but that they should still be careful, and they halfway observed the building's skeleton. The firefighter held a brilliant lantern which illuminated the structure in lieu of the florescent bulbs and ember's glow which had lit the structure previously and the sunlight which would have streamed in through holes in the exterior, if the arsonist had continued his work.

It was like walking into a watercolor painting where the artist only had access to a block of black paint: monochromatic and soft around the edges. Like the substance of the building itself was wearing thin, exposing the paper on which reality stood. The artist hadn't even been careful; often differences in shade or tint didn't reference shadows or contours.

Not that those were exactly the same as before either. The front desk was just a loose pile of rubble on one side of the room. The small metal doors which had housed the residents' mail behind it had partially melted leaving giant globs and open gaps in the wall. Meanwhile, the staircase which Barry had descended had crashed into the floor along with its twin on the other side of the room. The boards were still recognizable as stairs by how they fit together but they went the wrong direction and the railings were harder to see, if present. A steel ladder went up to the balcony which had connected the two stairways and ended just at the entrance to a hallway sticking straight out.

Barry had ran by that place twice. The arsonist had been on that hallway the first time.

Ash still hung in the air, and some of it whiffed into Barry's already irritated nostrils. He scrunched his nose and waited for a sneeze. When none came, Barry shook his head.

Julio gazed upward at the balcony. "Well, stairways would be the prime place to look for samples." Julio turned towards the firefighter. "You're more familiar with the building than I am. Where to?"

The firefighter squinted. "The rest of the staircases are made of concrete. They would be safer than the rest of the building… but we hadn't seen any retardants when looking over the building before."

"If the arsonist is using something, it probably has a heat threshold," Julio looked the fireman directly in the eye. "Nothing, though? Maybe with all the people running around the arsonist didn't get a chance to cover more than the first floor. Or, nothing at all. We don't really know what we're looking for."

"That doesn't sit right," Thawne snorted, getting everyone's attention. Julio raised an eyebrow. "Even if the arsonist couldn't work as easily because people were still evacuating the building, couldn't he just wait longer before starting the fire? As soon as the fire starts, he doesn't have much of a choice about when he does what in order to keep it contained, but until then he wouldn't have any reason not to wait. It's not like we could make use of the extra time while we were sitting there biting our fingernails off waiting for him to strike."

"And, the arsonist actually struck early," Julio conceded. His eyes wandered along the floor. "Oh, well. I thought it was a decent explanation at the time."

Barry meanwhile had been looking around the room while the others had been talking. Barry felt odd, weirder than when he revisited the hospital's lobby after running through it the first time.

So, he'd made it through this. Well, not _this_. The explosion which had probably collapsed most of the room had reached a whole different level of heat and combustion than the fire which had nearly singed Barry's skin off. Still, it made him think about how lucky the situation was. While his skin didn't enjoy the rub of his watch against his wrist, it was firmly attached to his body. While Barry refrained from taking any deep breathes or talking too loudly, he had the option to breathe and speak.

He prodded the staircase's remains with his shoe. It felt hollow, like it could shrivel up and disappear beneath his toe.

Julio finished his lament. Barry looked up. "We should take samples in all the stairways then. I can't imagine it will be easy to get good samples from the cement though." For the stairs here they would be able to take whole pieces of the stairway's wood, or rather charcoal, with them and worry about sorting the wood soot and fire retardant apart back at the lab. Barry also knew how much more retardant was used there anyways. On the other stairwells, they would either come in there with a chisel, which Barry had not packed, or attempt to take a swab off the surface and hope that the fire retardant got into the mess of soot and smoke which the swab would inevitably also pick up.

"Well, since the arsonist might not have sprayed the whole stairway, whoever acquires the samples from here would have to scrape the edge of that balcony up there. I'd much prefer stable cement passages any day of the week." Julio frowned looking up at said balcony.

It had been thick enough when Barry had run across it, five feet in width. Now it looked about three feet across without a railing and ready to crumble apart.

The firefighter nodded, "You'll need someone accompanying you to the other stairwells but they're stable enough that no one will have to watch you while you're there. Here, however, he paused, then shook his head. "I'm not going to say that you can't do it, but it would be preferable if you stayed away from that ledge."

"Unfortunately, taking some pieces of wood from up there would be our best bet at a solid sample." Barry pressed his lips together and rolled his shoulders. "I'd be willing to do it."

"Barry!" Julio yelled from across the room, turning on heel to face his friend. "You just got out of a coma! And didn't you say you were hit by the first blast."

A roll of the eyes. "My coma ended week and a half ago, and it was a little hot air. I'm fine." Probably.

Julio did not seem impressed. "Yes, you've recovered remarkably, but do you really want to risk it? I mean, what if you're a little sluggish or something and it starts to break apart? I don't want to find out that my partner is in the hospital again, this time because he did something stupid." Barry was glad his friend was so concerned for him, but sluggish was the last thing he was feeling, especially now that he'd had lunch. The compulsion to rest which had hit him when he had just exited the building had certainly left. Julio, meanwhile, threw his hands up in a huff. "Thawne, you talk some sense into him."

Thawne shrugged. "If he says he's fine, I don't see any reason not to let him do it. Plus, didn't you say you didn't want to go up there?"

"I used the word prefer," Julio huffed, "and at the time I thought I was expressing a universal sentiment."

And with that, the firefighter called in another and escorted Julio and Thawne to a staircase, while the new firefighter watched just below and called out advice. "Don't put your foot anywhere until you're sure it can hold your weight." "That piece doesn't look too stable; I can see it shaking from here. Try the plank to your right." Sensible things and, for the most part, practical things. Between the firefighter's comments and Barry's sped-up perception, he managed not to fall through the floor for a ten foot drop, though on one of his steps his foot had broken through the wood supporting it. He even managed to collect some samples of the walls and floor planks while he was up there, choosing pieces from the places that appeared the least burnt. He put them in plastic bags with sharpie markings and left numbered plastic tags in their stead.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Barry and Julio left the burn site and headed to the police department's headquarters in order to start sorting and analyzing their leads. The car ride was silent. Both were mentally tired and had plenty they needed to process before they got back to their labs. Julio was currently resting his hands at the steering wheel, staring out into the intersection, waiting for a green light

God, he hoped that these leads panned out.

The light changed. Julio touched the gas. He thought about all the tests he'd have to do later to the samples. He sighed.

In the midst this comfortable silence, Barry's phone rang. At the end of the first ring it finally had Barry's attention and he started pulling it out. By the second ring it was in his hands and open. He smiled. Soon it was up against his ear. "Hi, Felicity." All of his features perked up.

Julio did the best impression of a double take that he could do while driving. He scanned the road ahead of him then shot a 'who is Felicity, and why haven't I heard about her?' glance in Barry's direction. A raise of an eyebrow. A tilt of the head. A slight smirk.

In response, Barry waved Julio off and sent Julio a sharp glare. 'Shut up, and why would I have had to share this with you?' Julio read off his friend's face. Barry then turned away, listened for a moment, and then replied to Felicity with a smile, "Yes, I'm out of the coma. You're back from the company retreat." A pause. "It's been a week and a half since I woke up, a week since I called Diggle… No, you probably had a good reason to take so long to get back to Starling… Yeah, that makes sense."

During the exchange Julio began laughing lightly, and once Starling City came up, Julio quietly said "Ohhh…" exaggerating the sound and associated expression. Barry noticed, violently shook his head, and looked the other way.

"Yeah, no. If my coma didn't eat up all of my sick days and vacation time, then the fact that Oliver couldn't decide whether or not he wanted me around has ensured that I get absolutely no time off…" Barry waited a while and then laughed. He said very pointedly, "First, I was never sure whether Oliver ever really came around to me or not. He can be kind of just intense and hard to read… Oh, did he? Are you sure he wasn't trying to avoid an awkward conversation? And, I gave it to him because," Barry glanced in Julio's direction, "what he was doing before was just not working…" An attentive and then amused expression. "I figured you had forced him to write it. Well, that is good to hear."

Julio squinted and pressed his lips together. There was only one Oliver of whom Julio knew about who was connected with Queen Consolidated, but Julio quickly shrugged it off. Then again, Julio knew nobody personally from Starling City let alone QC.

However, it took almost no time for Barry to jump back into the conversation, "My second point is that while I still get weekends, it's a little complicated. Any of our schedules can get shifted around a lot, so the weekend is not always on the weekend, which I assume you guys have plenty of experience with. They'll probably want to ease me back in though, so I should actually have this next weekend off. Moreover, I think I made my bosses so royally pissed off at me that I'll have to ask permission to even leave Central City." A nervous chuckle.

Julio shook his head, honestly trying to tune Barry out at this point. While it was interesting that Barry had met somebody in Starling and was planning to meet them this coming weekend, Julio didn't need to hear him make the plans. In general forced eavesdropping is plain-old awkward, especially when it is only half of a conversation and you can't introduce yourself to the person on the other side.

Still, the conversation continued. "You came over to visit me often enough. I should probably come by and see the whole team. It sounds like you guys had a busy year." Julio figured it must have been a big year because Barry didn't speak again for a couple minutes, only giving the one words cues people use to tell the other person to continue speaking. Finally he picked back up to a whole sentence. "Well, I'm glad you practically had the summer off before the craziness started again. Do you need to hang up now? …No, you guys don't need to buy my ticket. I think…" A suspicious silence. Barry's face folded in conflicted thoughts. "I think I have some Amtrak reward points. I'll call you back if I discover otherwise… K, well, sounds like you need to get back to work, and my lab mate and I are almost back at the department, so bye."

And, Barry hung up.

The two lab mates sat comfortably for a moment, before Julio broke the silence, "So, Felicity?"

Barry turned back to his coworker and shrugged. "Yeah, I met her at Queen Consolidated. She's nice." He then gazed out the front windshield, perhaps hoping that avoiding eye contact meant Julio would drop the topic. Barry should know better by now.

Julio pressed on with a grin and a roll of the shoulders. "Nice? When you saw her name on the screen, your whole face lit up like a light bulb. There has to be a story behind that."

Barry shrugged and rolled his eyes before turning his head to look out the passenger window. A few moment's passed. Finally Barry conceded. "The investigation was handled internally by Queen Consolidated; she brought me in and helped work on it. She was really good at investigative research and brilliant at IT."

"And…" Julio narrowed his eyes. His friend could be so aggravating some times.

"And nothing. At least nothing now." Without even looking at Barry, Julio could just see his body droop at the words. "She did invite me to a company event"– a wistful breath –"which turned out to be Moira Queen's much attended coming back party, but… she's dating someone else now."

"Barry, you were in a coma. Maybe she just went to him because she didn't know if you were ever going to wake up."

Julio was trying to sound optimistic, but he knew Barry had horrible luck when it came to starting relationships. Not only were the people Barry fell in love with naturally unavailable but every time Julio and his girlfriend, Sabrina, had attempted to help him out and set him up with somebody Barry had returned with a story about an odd quirk the person had. Actually quirk here was an understatement. Barry once had returned complaining that the woman had tried to read his aura and that 'believing we don't know everything isn't the same thing as feeding the crazies.' Needless to say those ventures had left everyone frustrated and had already been called off.

Apparently his encouragement didn't help. "Actually, you could see she liked him even while I was there. He just didn't seem ready to admit any reciprocation of the feelings at the time. So no, I doubt it." Despite his crestfallen tone, a small smile began to form on Barry's lips. "Still, she came to visit me in the hospital, and we had enough in common that we could probably be good friends regardless. It's just… awkward."

Julio sighed. It didn't seem like sticking to this subject would help any, so he pushed the conversation away from Felicity herself. "So, Amtrak rewards. I assume that's like frequent flier miles but for trains."

Barry scrunched his nose, "Yeah, I think so. I never got around to using them, but so long as they don't expire, I'd have plenty." Another suspicious silence. "I've done enough traveling that I should save on _something_." Julio strangely got the feeling that Barry wasn't talking about train rides, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. Perhaps it was nothing.

**Note:**

Really, Barry? I'm glad you feel more confident about your powers after whatever you did in the building, but nobody should have to tell you to clean up afterwards. Ok, you probably didn't plan this one out as much as you will do so later, but maybe a change of clothes would be nice. Or clothes better suited to the task. Again, I know the costume isn't going to fall out of nowhere onto your lap; even the first documented version was a surprisingly good work of engineering. It was only something you'd put together after you knew what you were going to do. But, I'm excited and impatient, what to do you expect?

Also, we are now in the phase of the story where you investigate, postulate, and conclude. You figure out who your villain is and what they are planning. You begin to understand them, so you can stop them. It is not the most glorious aspect of the superhero business, but growing up I enjoyed those parts of the stories as well, and now I will return the favor. I'll try to keep Heat Wave from burning anything down while you work. I can't say I'll succeed; the man may know how to lay low if he needs to, but I'm not sure how he will react to what happened today. I might lose some of the control I had over him.

As a final thought, is it just me or did you come back to the department in a surprisingly good mood? You've almost finished healing, but I doubt that accounts for it.

From,

A Fan


	13. Chapter 12: The Scientific method

Sorry guys, I had meant to get this out earlier, but there was a technical mess up with one of my beta's. By the time that was fixed, I was really busy with school work.

This chapter was beta'd by my mom and by willowoak_walker on AO3. I hope you guys enjoy it.

**Chapter 12: The Scientific Method**

Once the two CSI's made it back to the station, Julio went off to his half of the lab to process the plethora of samples collected from the stairways. Some of these samples consisted of small pieces of burnt wood, but most were swaths of fabric which they had rubbed against the concrete steps. Julio carried a whole bucket load of plastic baggies under his arm. Though without the actual bucket and with insufficient space in the grocery bag Julio kept handy in the car, it was almost humorous to watch Barry's lab mate attempt to juggle them as they had made their way to the lab. Almost because Barry knew commenting on it would mean an unfortunate prank later. That and Barry had been forced to carry a few of them himself in addition to the arsonist's bag.

Julio and Barry were going to start by doing a little research and review in order to compile a list of chemicals and elements they should look for. Sometimes turning a sample over to a machine is ok. It will do plenty of work, and if you're not checking for a particular compound, it can run enough tests to find things you hadn't even considered. However, running all the tests on a single sample can take a long time, and to make the process not take from here to eternity, it occasionally takes short cuts. That's fine, if a chemical is in such abundance that a little imprecision won't hurt, and you only have one sample. However, Barry and Julio had no idea how much of the fire retardant would have survived, and they couldn't afford to spend a week processing every sample only to discover none of the samples had anything worthwhile.

Fortunately, most of the tests could still be automated, but repeatedly doing the remaining few by hand would soon become tedious for Julio. Moreover, sometimes even the computer could return 'possibly', which required Julio to, guess what, repeat the procedure manually. Ok, it said a little more than that: 'Possible traces of –insert chemical here- *** Predicted concentration too small for verification'. Yet, that one word encapsulated the CSI's frustrations.

Still, if anyone could find the chemical traces, Julio could do it, so while he was going to complain, Julio was willing to do the work.

After the brainstorming, the arsonist's bag was going to be Barry's main priority. In the best scenario, Barry hoped that whatever was cooling the bag was also in the fire retardant. It didn't feel tough or brittle like the crisp foam he had discovered in the stairwell, but running his hands over the bag's inner surface revealed ribbing which felt like it could possibly be tubing. In any case, the bag itself could fulfill its use now no matter how long the analysis took on the stairway samples.

Meanwhile, the detectives would be spilling their brains over the bag's contents, trying to track down the proper owners and deciding what that revealed about the arsonist and what the arsonist was going to do next. Thawne for one couldn't decide whether the spook would keep the arsonist down for a bit or the loss of loot would drive them to seek out another score. "Or, it could be some combination of the two," Thawne had mused, "The arsonist lays low for a while, then realizing he still has nothing targets a bigger or more cash rich building." Thawne gave a grunt. "There are too many variables now. At least before he was predictable."

Barry had shrugged before heading down to the lab, "The world is seldom predictable, and maybe more variables are what we need. The one's we had earlier certainly couldn't pin down the situation."

Now, Barry stood in his lab with his notebook and pencil out, ready to see how the bag worked and where it came from. The first order of service was to figure out how effective it could maintain cool temperatures inside compared to the temperature outside. Any fiddling later might damage the cooling system, so this had to be done first.

To do this Barry retrieved two thermometers from drawers which would wirelessly transmit their readings to his computer, before he placed a rack over the Bunsen burner and the bag on the rack. After setting up the thermometers so that one was in the bag and the other directly next to the burner, Barry turned the gas on, lit the flame, and then moved his hand back to the controls. He slowly turned the knob. The data flashed by the left hand side of the computer screen. The right hand side of the screen showed the correlation between the data points. The Bunsen burner wouldn't be able to reach the temperatures the fire had produced inside the apartment complex, but with enough data points, Barry would be able to find a statistically relevant correlation and predict what the arsonist had been feeling, physically at least, inside the inferno. It did look like the burner was having some affect inside the bag, however slight.

Barry reached the burner's highest setting and held it there for a while before pressing a button on his computer to separate data sets. He then slowly turned the nozzle's control the other direction until the burner turned off and let the temperatures record until they returned to normal.

He pressed the button again, shifted the position of the thermometer inside the bag, and repeated the procedure several times. Raising the temperature, separating the data sets, lowering the temperature, separating the data sets, messing with the thermometer and the bag, redo. Only with numerous data points could any conclusion be reliable or relevant, and even so Barry didn't want to draw conclusions from only one set up. Perhaps the thermometer was in the weakest area of protection, or the strongest. The only way to find out would be to move it around and see if it affected the data.

It didn't, at least not significantly, and it was good to know for certain.

After sufficient iterations of that test, Barry changed the experiment up. The bag, of course, hadn't been exposed to temperatures gradually in the apartment complex; the heat inside the building had hit suddenly and hard, and then it would have stayed that high while the arsonist slowly strolled through the blaze.

Thus, Barry turned the Bunsen burner all the way up and waited a moment to confirm that the temperature was stable before placing the bag back on the rack. He then watched and recorded the temperature of the internal thermometer until its reading remained constant. Separating data sets, Barry repeated the experiment two more times for good measure.

Barry glanced over at his friend's half of the room. Julio was hunched over a counter, and Barry could practically see the small storm cloud over his friend's head like a cartoon drawing. "So, the tests going as expected?"

Julio glared over his shoulder. "If you mean not having found anything yet as expected, then yes. No inorganics have turned up on any of the sample's I've run so far, at least any inorganics that weren't pieces of cement and wood varnish. I identified a sample that had a different luster than the surrounding cement, but I'm waiting for the computer's preliminary analysis before I plan what other tests that I'm going to do. Though, it isn't like we've been working for long anyways. You wouldn't have expected any breakthroughs yet regardless."

Barry laughed, "No, I didn't, but it did look like you were working yourself into a rut, and I wanted to bring you out of it."

"Thanks. It's just frustrating wondering whether or not this whole pile of shit," Julio gestured at the samples laid out over the table, "will be for nothing."

"I'm sure you'll find something," Barry reassured before quietly sighing to himself. He hated holding things back from the investigation, but so far they were things the task force could work around if he pushed them in the right direction. "I mean something had to have been there before. I don't believe the arsonist is controlling the fire with his mind, and I would be highly suspicious if you did."

Julio shook his head. "I would be more confident if you got me the results from the bag. Even if the arsonist isn't using the same tech, I'd at least have something to look for."

"I was just going to try to get a sample from the bag's ribbing right now."

And, Barry moved to do just that, first putting the rack and thermometers away and closing his laptop before removing a small knife, needle, and wax from the drawers. This would be a delicate procedure, to draw out the coolant without contaminating it with air. The substance's purity was especially important if it was similar to the material that became the foam in the arsonist used in the hallways; Barry did not want the coolant to harden in the bag or inside the needle. Not only would chemical reactions have changed the substance from its original form, but it would also be difficult to get it out of either container.

Still, Barry had to try.

He felt the ribbing with his fingertips and located what he suspected to be a tube of coolant. It certainly had the right shape, running like a thick wire through the fabric and chilling Barry's finger tips uncomfortably. Barry grabbed the knife and ran it beside the tube, careful not to cut into the tube itself. He carefully pulled back the slit to reveal the tube.

It was a flexible little thing, though Barry supposed that was only natural to keep the bag light and workable. The tube itself appeared to be made of a clear plastic and contained a light blue liquid. Barry reached over to turn his desk lamp on; the material seemed to glow, though more accurately it caught, reflected and refracted the light. Barry placed two fingers on the tubing, pulled the fingers apart, and then pressed it against the table to hold it in place. With his right hand, he grabbed the needle, aimed, and slid it into the tube.

Barry's hand darted to the wax, and without even thinking he used the speed force to hasten its movement. Within a hundredth of a second Barry had secured the area around the puncture with an extra layer, removed the needle, smudged the wax so that the resulting hole closed, and placed a small layer of wax over the needle's tip.

He then realized what he had just done and pressed his lips together. He couldn't tell whether to be grateful he'd acted quickly and prevented any contamination or annoyed at himself for not even considering what he was doing.

He glanced at Julio across the room. His coworker was standing over his counter facing the other way. A sigh of relief.

The needle sat in Barry's hand, still, for a full moment. Well, a full moment according to Barry, but that was long enough and he needed to get back to work, so he carefully put a small sample into his own machine for processing. Then to test whether it actually was the foam material he placed a milliliter drop on a plastic slide. The liquid immediately expanded to three times its size. Bubbles formed on its surface before forming closer and closer to the sample's core. As the bubbles appeared the color became lighter with light bouncing off of each bubble's surface and returning to Barry's eyes instead of passing through the liquid. Soon the bubbles stopped and the liquid's growth slowed. It was no longer liquid. Barry blinked.

Well. That answered that question. Unfortunately, he'd used a microscope slide, and because he hadn't predicted exactly how much the substance would rise, he wasn't sure whether it would fit in the device any more.

He furrowed his eyebrows and retrieved another slide from the drawer along with a graduated cylinder. He measured the difference in volume between the clean slide and the now-contaminated slide; it was 3.50 ml.

Turns out the slide still fit in the microscope, but it didn't do any good anyways. All of the bubbles refracted the backlighting around too much and without the bottom light, it was too dark to make out any details. The foam might still hold some value in attempting to understand the structure of the substance, but for now Barry was not enamored with it, or rather his decision of where to put it. Barry glared at it before he filed off some dust from the side of the foam clump, placed it on the clean slide, and added a cover slip.

It went into the microscope, and Barry's eyes went to the eyepiece.

The specs of dust looked mostly as expected: pale blue and rough with the bubbles' edges. Occasionally a spec would contain itself a microscopic hollow interior or a portion that held a yellower tone. Barry wondered what the bubbles contained. A gas certainly but probably not of atmospheric composition. There would be no way for Barry to know directly. He would have to wait for the machine to finish processing the blue liquid and then run some of the dust through the same procedure. Fortunately, the CCPD had to be sticklers about contaminating evidence due to the potential use of results as legal evidence, so he didn't have to worry about the machine posing a problem for that. Comparing the two results would allow Barry to deduce, or at least strongly infer, the chemical processes which caused the bubbling and solidification.

Barry maneuvered the slide around to view more of the dust. Most of it looked the same: nothing new. Then something caught Barry's eye: a dot of red.

Against even the one spec which contained it, the dot seemed rather small, so Barry changed the microscope's objective lens to the next higher power. The dot turned into a miniscule splotch, which itself appeared to be broken up into several individual dots. At this point not small enough to deem insignificant, a trick of the light, or something similar but small enough and rare enough that Barry doubted it was a part of the coolant's, or rather fire retardant's, overall composition. Though perhaps another piece had slipped by him, and Barry would have to check with the higher magnification, he doubted he'd passed over a similar discoloration earlier. It had sneaked in.

Barry smiled. What occurred by accident was often much more helpful and revealing than what occurred on purpose because during the accident the outside world intervenes and you get a new view of what is going on. It doesn't matter whether it was your accident or someone else's, though each tells you different things.

Barry continued increasing the magnification. The original x40 magnification had worked well for seeing the structure of the dust while x100 had confirmed the splotches existence as well as the several smaller dots which composed it. At x400 magnification…

Were those blood cells?

Barry's eyes squinted. Those certainly looked like other blood cells he'd seen under the microscope. Though these were a bit more bent out of shape than the others, the others hadn't had foam solidify around them, so that was really more expected than not. Still. Blood cells. How the fuck did they get there?

A blink escaped Barry's eyes though they remained focused on the slide or rather its suspicious contents. "Julio."

"Hmmm?" came the reply from the other side of the room.

"I think the results on the coolant are going to be more interesting than we originally anticipated. There will probably be more organics for one thing."

"Why would you say that?"

Barry pulled his back straight and let this eyes rest on the wall in front of him. A frustrated frown covered his face. "There are several blood cells in a sample of the coolant I'm looking at. Not enough even to say someone cut themselves and a drop got in. I could literally count them; there were seven. They must have been pretty well mixed into the substance if there are any others.

At the point Julio spun around with wide eyes. "What? Really?" His jaw went slack. "That's odd."

Barry shrugged and glanced back at the microscope. "Exactly what I was trying to say."

Julio opened his mouth. "Well, perhaps…" He closed his mouth. "It would be weird to handle something like that without gloves on let alone with an open cut, but that's the only answer I have right now. Do you think the rest is organic or are you just worried about contamination? I don't mean alive but, you know, compound wise"

Barry put his eyes back to the eyepiece for a moment and slowly, too slowly his brain cried, moved the slide around to view different pieces before returning the image to the blood cells. He could now see tiny crisscrossing fibers and flat disks in the material. Other substances stuck these together like glue, or considering the material's hardness, like cement, and neither type of object were never much longer than the blood cells they had entrapped. Yet, they were there, and not what he had expected. "I wouldn't have said so originally, and I'm not saying it is totally composed of organic compounds nor even that I am sure that there are any, but… I wouldn't be surprised if it had some organic components."

Julio's eyes turned upward in thought. "So, it's probably not the fire retardant." Fire retardants themselves could actually be organic as is the case with organohalogens, but these are rarely found in nature and even in those cases there typically was not blood involved. These chemicals did not occur in animals. Some odd strains of fungi and bacteria maybe, but not animals. Moreover, organohalogens work chemically against combustion, not as a coolant.

Barry shook his head. "I'm not going to rule out any possibilities yet; I was just throwing out an idea. Plus, I have no idea what this is let alone whether or not it can stop fires. Just look at what happened when it touched the air." Barry held up the original, now useless, slide for his friend to see.

Julio's eyebrows knit together, and he grabbed the slide, which seemed like a clear plastic mount to display the odd substance. Julio's eyes narrowed, and his lips scrunched together in concentration. To Julio, the substance had just issued a challenge, 'I bet you can't figure out what I am or how I work.' Julio had a hard time turning down such challenges. He rubbed a latex covered finger over the substance's surface, and he noticed the chill immediately. His fingernail pushed at the surface through his glove. His lips pushed closer together.

After an eternity in which Julio tried to stare down the odd sample, he turned back to Barry. "We could always do your way of testing flammability. You have more of this stuff right?"

An eyebrow shot up in confusion and then the other followed in realization. Barry nodded.

It didn't take too long for Julio to pull out a match from a drawer, flick it across the rough patch of the box, and hold it beside the vertically oriented slide. Nothing. It seemed that the flame never actually managed to reach the substance. He moved the match closer. Nothing. He touched the match's tip against the foam bulge. Nothing. Well, not entirely nothing. The flame had been avoiding the substance before; now it flickered close to death. Removing the match from the substance caused the flame to pulse back to life. Julio rubbed his thumb over the substance. It remained cool.

Julio turned back to Barry. "It's not complete proof, but it's pretty good. I'd be more convinced if that had been on wood, though I doubt you had been planning on using a microscope slide to test how something affects flammability." Suddenly a light bulb went on in Julio's eyes, and he glanced around the room. "Can you get more of the coolant ready? I swear there is a box of glorified Popsicle sticks stashed somewhere in this room." Julio shuffled through his drawers, and Barry moved to do the same on his side of the room. Barry laughed slightly remembering when they had first found the tongue depressors in some corner. Neither CSI had known why they were in the lab, but through the course of working they had discovered that it was occasionally useful to have a few odds and ends around. Not all leads lend themselves to the usual forms of investigation.

Yet, not everything's potential is immediately evident. "Didn't we get rid of those things a while ago? Plus, don't you have something else to be doing?"

Julio paused for a moment. "Maybe, but any collection of wooden objects we don't need will do. That was just the first one that came to mind." He resumed the search. "Moreover, I doubt the arsonist would carry two fire retardants around, and I'd much rather have something specific to search for in the sample pile of doom. We'll probably save time by doing this now and that later."

"True."

It was six thirty when James Forrest dropped by the lab. Julio had already gone home, and despite what Patty Spivot said about Barry's habit of staying late, Barry wasn't there. He'd probably gone home as well. Forrest turned and started to leave.

Meanwhile, Barry entered the building and dashed through the halls towards his lab. Considering his speeds, most people would choose a stronger word than dashing. Sprinting at least. Speeding was also a good contender. No one left in the building could make out his figure as he moved by, and only a few people looked up in confusion at the gust of wind or the blur of color they noticed out of the corner of their eye. Nobody paid much attention to it. The rooms occasionally drafted, and maybe they missed out on their midday coffee. Even if they hadn't, days at the police department often became long and tiring. They hadn't felt it before, but now they knew they needed another cup.

On the other hand, while Barry was certainly not going easy on himself, and knew he wasn't going slowly, he wouldn't immediately describe himself as fast either. For one, the spark of energy flowing through his veins reminded him that all he needed to do to go faster was tug harder. The knowledge flickered at the back of his mind.

Secondly, though his experience in the apartment complex had revealed an efficient turning strategy, the department's bends and jerks proved annoying. Each time he had to cut into a turn because the hallway just so happened to change directions, he had to pull himself to a stop and pivot, and despite the extra energy he got from the maneuver and extra tug he gave his abilities, he still had to rebuild momentum from scratch.

Barry was going slowly enough fortunately that when he reached the hall which contained his lab and saw somebody moving away from the lab's door. It was a heavier man with dark skin wearing a crime-lab white jacket. Barry squinted for a mili-moment before recognizing the figure as James Forrest. "Hi."

The man turned around and his eyes widened. " 'Heard your group had a big day today, so I figured I'd drop by and say hi, though it looked like you two had already left."

Barry shrugged. "Julio has already left, and I was just… running some tests." More literally than Forrest probably suspected.

After Julio had left and Barry had finished the piece he had been working on, Barry had pushed the lab set up for the case aside and began to prepare his own experiments. He'd finally have a chance to test whether his new abilities were safe. The new needles came out from their packages, and even those received sterilization from a flame. A set of bandages and band aids lay ready to the side next to the plastic tubes which would be storing the samples. Barry identified where he would want to take the first set of samples, prepared the skin, and wrapped a tourniquet a couple inches above the site. The site for the control sample didn't matter much other than Barry didn't his site to obscure test sites. Fortunately he had found a vein reasonably away from his joints, where he was planning to take his post-movement samples.

Barry had slid the needle in and pulled the plunger back. The resulting vacuum pulled the red liquid out of his skin. Barry gently removed the needle his skin, cleaned the area around the puncture, and bandaged it. He then had stuck the needle into the plastic tube and pushed the plunger down, releasing its contents. Barry then gave the tube a generic label and a false name, so it could be safely stored without suspicion.

Barry had been glad that forensics didn't always involve dead bodies, and he had executed the procedure before on living tissue.

Next came the use of his abilities to see if they affected his blood chemistry in any way, while a portion of the first sample went through basic testing. To do this Barry decided to start simple: opening his hand with his wrist titled a back then closing his fist with his wrist titled forward. The action itself would stress the wrist, a joint from which he could subsequently draw blood, while the duration would give the micro-injuries time to build up to a noticeable level. The simplicity meant that Barry wouldn't have to leave his lab and draw attention to himself.

Unfortunately, after doing the action for half an hour, Barry had the feeling that it wouldn't be enough. He hadn't even noticed a slow-twitch interval during which his fast-twitch muscle fibers would be rebuilding. And, the action was getting annoying. Very annoying.

So, Barry had stopped at the planned time, drew the blood, and waited for the preliminary results to come back. In the meantime, he analyzed the temperature readings he had taken earlier that day. While Barry was sure he would have resort to running later, he wasn't going to push his abilities' use. Moreover, he needed a cool down period so the so the samples wouldn't interfere with each other; he didn't want the activity used in one sample to also influence the results on a completely different test.

When the first results came back, however, they were not helpful. The sugar levels along with those for several other nutrients were lower than they had been but only by expected amounts if that. A few nutrients had even had their levels raised, perhaps in reaction to his body's increased demand for them. Platelets were up slightly. Not to the point where Barry could deduce the presence of an injury, but enough that he couldn't deny one either. All and all they were rather frustrating.

So, Barry had replaced his bandages with band aids and ran five times around the block before he'd encountered Forrest on the way back.

He'd now have to redo the run later. He couldn't take the blood sample in front of the man, but Barry wasn't going to be rude and turn the man away when he'd gone out of his way to visit him.

Forrest didn't appear the wiser and passed Barry a friendly and sympathetic smile, as Barry keyed the door open. The other man had likely stopped by so late because some of his own tests had bogged them "So, do you guys think you have something, or is Director Singh going to blow his cap again?" Barry could see hope in the man's eyes, the kind of hope you have when you know something isn't going to happen but you want to believe anyways. A dash of pity also made it in.

Barry opened the door and gestured for Forrest to come in. "How much have you heard exactly?"

"Not much," Forrest shrugged. "Only that another building went up and that everyone on the task force has been busy since. That's a good sign at least, being busy." Skepticism crawled onto Forrest's face. "However, I also heard that you had gotten pretty burnt standing a little too close to the building, but you look fine now, so that was probably BS."

Barry instinctively glanced down at the skin on his arm at the mention of the burns. While it still looked fresh, it hadn't bothered him at all since he had returned, and for that matter he didn't mind speaking anymore either. "I actually did get a little singed. It was only for a second though, so I guess the burns weren't too deep." A bit of hesitation entered Barry's voice despite his attempt to dismiss the matter. It had certainly felt like an eternity or at least a day since he ran out of the inferno, but Barry's perception of the passage of time had gone wonky ever since waking up from the coma. In reality, it had only been several hours. Burns typically don't disappear so easily.

Again Forrest didn't seem to mind. "My source was probably just exaggerating then. He said you had looked like a lobster." Forrest punctuated his sentence with a laugh and then waited.

"With regards to how the investigation is going, I'd say rather well or at least better than we expected," Barry had immediately shoved the bandages and band aids into a drawer when he reached the counter, and now that the most damning evidence was out of the way, he was dealing with the rest in a more orderly fashion. "Our biggest piece is that it looks like we have a bag which belongs to the arsonist. Though we can't say for certain, who else would be carrying around a fireproof bag with other people's stuff? Even that object seems to be a mystery. We spent the last few hours analyzing its composition and its cooling mechanism, but we still have no idea how it works." A smile twitched on Barry's lips. "But, we've only been at it a day, so I'm not worried yet. We're also planning to check for traces of the coolant in case the arsonist was using something similar as a fire retardant."

"Hmmm. We'd considered something like that when Director Singh sent us all through the case, but all the fire experts told us there wasn't any that could work that well nor one that could be deployed in time even by a long shot." Forrest gave an exasperated shrug. "It seemed impossible; the whole situation seemed impossible. You think this thing is going to be that different?"

Barry noticed that Forrest's intonation seemed off when he had closed the thought. It had risen like a question, but only as an afterthought. For the most part it lowered as if pushed downward by mental weight. In between the two parts lay a waiver that Barry couldn't identify.

He sent the other man a hopeful shrug and a reassuring smile before continuing to put things away. "It doesn't behave like anything either Julio or myself have heard of, and we've been running tests all afternoon. Granted the results for a bunch of them are going to get back tomorrow, but so far so weird. Yet, it's managed to withstand whatever fire we've thrown at it, and we're going to request the equipment to go hotter." Barry closed the refrigerator where he had just placed the blood samples and turned back to Forrest. "Sometimes situations are impossible, at least according to what we know of the world. You just have to take the most plausible thing, however impossible, and see if you can get it to work out. This time it might."

"Um…" Forest looked at Barry as if for permission. As if Barry would know whether Forrest should say a certain thing before he said it. "Do you really believe in the… paranormal?" Barry's eyes narrowed at the other CSI. His lips pushed together and his shoulder's dropped. Forrest glanced away. "I heard you had gone off on cases like that before your leave. You seemed reasonable, so I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but…" Forrest's eyes traced the floor.

"But, you remembered how excited I was to work this case?"

Forrest nodded. "We all want it solved, but none of us are all too thrilled to be the ones assigned to it."

"Fair enough," Barry offered before raising a finger. "First, I don't believe in the paranormal. It's not like I think there are ghosts haunting places, psychics reading minds, or aliens abducting people. Even if there are weird things out there that doesn't mean I'll claim to know what's behind them. I might find an explanation that other people don't agree with, but it's not because some group of people have reportedly found a pattern based on pseudoscience and then named it after some longstanding myth. It will simply be what I feel is the most plausible explanation for the facts.

Barry placed his hands on the table. "Secondly, I am more likely to consider certain ideas because of personal reasons, but that is all. I know that personal reasons aren't proof. I know that I'll still need to find the hard evidence and run the tests just like everyone else."

Barry cringed and tensed as he was saying it. As much as he never expected anybody to truly believe him, people were never just waiting for him to supply proof. They dismissed his ideas and dismissed him as soon as an idea exited his mouth. Sometimes people rejected him even when he had proof. It would be nice to hear for once, 'I don't necessarily think that is the case, but it's still worth thinking about.' He'd been so relieved and surprised to hear it from Thawne.

But, now wasn't the time for a rant; Forrest needed to know he could still think.

Meanwhile, Forrest processed Barry's explanation. His lips turned, and his eyes stared ahead. "I'm not sure I like it, but if you're following procedure, I can live with it. I mean, science isn't the ideas it's the method, so if you're willing to accept the results, what's the difference?"

Barry smiled. Forrest obviously wasn't going to believe him, and he wasn't going to be able to forget it like Julio and Patty managed to do. But, he was willing to try. "Most people don't talk about it unless they have to. It helps."

"Well, people are talking, and I doubt anything I do will change that." Forrest's eyelids lowered. "I could try to calm it down a little though. It's one thing to want to know what's going on with the people you work with. It's another thing to get vicious about it."

A sigh slipped out of Barry's lips. "I'd owe you one."

Forrest glanced around the room before his eyes landed on the countertop. "So, was the bloodwork for a different case?"

Barry's eyes snapped to where the blood samples had been. He opened his mouth then hesitated. An eternity passed. He blinked several times. "Yeah. A different case."

"I know the senior blood analyst, so if you want her to look at it, I could send it over?"

Forrest smiled. The smile seemed so well meaning, and yet it did nothing to relax any of Barry's muscles, which had all tensed as soon as Forrest had mentioned the blood. Barry slowly started shaking his head. "Yeah, she was my previous supervisor, and she'd kill me if I couldn't do it myself. Which I can. It's really routine stuff." Barry somehow managed to keep his mouth moving slowly even as his mind spiraled in nervous eddies.

"I could pass it off as for my own case." Forrest's eyes glinted as if he knew what was going on.

"No." The word shot out of Barry's mouth. The idea of a DNA specialist taking his already abnormal blood to a specialist trained to find distinguishing features almost made him jump and that wasn't even taking into consideration that she might find what he was looking for. Even if she didn't immediately connect it back to him, it'd spark her curiosity for sure. She might ask for a second opinion. Second opinions are always good. Except when Barry is trying to keep a secret. Then, they are dreadful. Barry tried to smile back at Forrest. "I already owe you one, and it will only take another fifteen minutes." Barry took a deep breath. "How is that case going by the way? You'd mentioned a double homicide yesterday."

Forrest did not seem convinced, but he took the bait. They talked for another five minutes before Forrest commented that he had to leave. Barry enjoyed the break, but he was also glad to get back to work. Not that long after Forrest had walked out the door, Barry had glanced into the hallway and looked both directions. Confirming that no one was there Barry ran, and this time did ten laps around the building for good measure.

Barry returned home at eight o'clock, though fortunately he'd already eaten at that point, having consumed a pile of Chinese takeout while he'd waited for the test results for his forty lap run. He probably shouldn't have eaten then because he had yet to take his final sample, which he'd planned for thirty minutes after the last run. But, the clock was already reading six fifty when he'd ended, and he'd be starving by this point without the extra running. He decided to be glad he knew of a place nearby from a many a late night in the lab.

After finishing his meal, Barry did a little more work towards a thorough blood screening beyond the preliminary tests he'd been running originally. It'd certainly look like he'd need it. The preliminary tests had been, for example, returning the exact same thing, or nearly so, each time. The glucose content of the blood decreased slightly. The platelet levels elevated though not strictly beyond the range of expected deviation. That the results were not scaling with the activity was an encouraging sign.

Interestingly, however, once he'd started testing for the chemical discussed in the medical reports, he found that it and a few related compounds had flooded his system, especially after the runs. The doctors had already decided that the chemical was harmless, so Barry wasn't worried, though the question of where the chemical came from became more pressing. Was his body somehow producing it and if so how? Why? Did it have to do with the feeling he associated with his abilities? Barry guessed he'd never know the answers to some of these questions, at least not without turning himself over for study to someone with a Ph.D. in medicine or biochemistry.

Barry sighed, a small smile gracing his lips.

He could never be entirely sure of his ability's safety; where ever he checked it might be causing damage in some other way. But, there would be a point where he wouldn't with every step worry whether something was going to happen, where he would deal with a negative side effect if and when it became apparent but it wouldn't haunt his movement.

Barry felt himself getting closer to that point. He wasn't there yet. He still knew so little, and he had plenty more tests to run before he could relax completely. However, Barry had begun to think of those differently. At this point it was about finding the safe limits of his abilities rather than distrusting them entirely; he knew given the right circumstances, he would be tempted to push his abilities further, and he would prefer to discover any problems under controlled circumstances.

He knew this because he was already tempted. Sure, the short run to the burn site had turned out fine, but that didn't explain why he was somehow considering running to Starling City 1200 miles away. Or, for that matter why his brain had decided to label thirty miles as short. What would it consider long? Barry honestly didn't know.

But, it was getting late, and the question would have to wait for a different time. He checked through his notebook and made sure that all of the information was there, albeit encoded cryptically. He put everything away for the second time that night, and he went home. He didn't take the light rail or a cab.

He entered his apartment with a grin plastered against his face. He wanted this. Even if science had trained his mind to be skeptical and not jump to conclusions, even particularly enticing ones, he wanted his abilities to be safe. He wanted to run.

**Note:**

Barry,

I wish I had your job right now, or rather I wish I had Julio's because I want to work with you rather than kick you out of the department. This is partly because I want to actually be there when you make a discovery or found a hint in the evidence.

As much as the investigative portion of the story was one of my favorites, those were just stories. Stories which have mutated and changed over the years with pieces lost to time. Stories which often thought it would be a good idea to skim over certain parts in order to moralize or cut to the action. With you here so close I don't want them to be stories any more. And, yet here I am waiting for you to report what you've done. A story put to paper, in the language of science and emphasizing different details but still a story none the less.

However, I also want to do science. I did it before coming here; it's what I know and love. And yet, it is not my job here. I know why it isn't, why this role suits my needs so much more, but it can be frustrating, holding back, not explaining everything, showing how it all works, and running experiments myself.

At the same time, I worry that you won't find what you need to, despite the fact that I also find it hard not to believe that you'll walk up to me and explain exactly what is going on. You have a sharp mind, but I know part of it is the myth inflating itself in my brain and the fact that everything is so clear in hindsight. You are entering a new world, different from the world you know and you haven't been given the new rule book. You don't know what's the same and what assumptions to toss out the window. It's all laid out, and yet it couldn't be less clear. Well, I have to have faith that you will at least see something, or this will all be for naught.

Still, sometimes I feel like I'm being as subtle as a jackhammer and at others I worry that there is no way you'll read the clues I've given you.

From,

A Fan


	14. Chapter 13: Moving Forward

Sorry for getting this up so late. First, I had a conference which delayed me getting the finished chapter to my beta's. The weekend after that was parent's weekend, and I had to swing by another conference. Needless to say that was another busy weekend, including for my beta who also happens to be my mom (thank you). Then finally this past weekend, I had two midterms and had to make a Halloween costume (well, I didn't have to make it, but I needed a break between my previous week and the midterms). This prevented me from getting the story up

I also have to say that I am sorry, but I am taking a (hopefully small) break from writing. I do plan to continue the story and start writing again soon. In fact, I have plans for where the story will go and am excited to get it down. However, my life is also extremely busy and energy consuming without an obligation to write, and while I have loved these characters they did drain me a little bit. Moreover, my goal when I started was to average 250 words a night over this year, and I met that goal with the previous chapter. So, I thought it was time for a breather.

Fortunately, it looks like my life might start calming down a little bit again, so I might be able to start in again before the year is over. And, even in the worst case that I'm not free until winter break, I would like to do the same thing next year (averaging a certain number of words per night on stories, focusing on this one until it is done). I have enjoyed writing and feel like it gives me a boost in emotional health. I just wanted to tell you guys that I don't have strict plans for when I will start writing again or how much once I do, so updates might come a little less frequently until the new year.

On a final note, this story will be moved to the Flash archive soon. I had held off before because I had wanted to see what archive the fandom decided on (the archive in use had been created for the _previous _show). Then I wanted to wait until a little bit after posting this chapter, so I could officially announce the change in location before people thought that the story just went poof.

Well, onto the main event. I hope you enjoy this installment.

**Chapter 13: Moving Forward**

Barry was sitting on the train when his phone rang. Despite the fact that he was no longer afraid of running the twenty miles from his apartment to the CCPD's headquarters, Barry had wanted a touch of normalcy today. His mind had enough to process without having to navigate the world at a couple hundred miles per hour. Not that he minded navigating at that speed; there was a certain exhilaration that came with the run. But, now he wanted to relax and prepare his mind for the day.

Barry glanced at the phone. IRIS. His lips twitched upward.

"Hi." Barry breathed into the phone careful not to speak too loud and bother the surrounding passengers.

"Barry!" the phone chirped. "Are you at work yet? Am I disturbing you? I know you're typically in a rush in the mornings, but I needed to talk to you."

Barry blinked and then shook his head. "My shift starts at nine, Iris. I still have time. Plus, I'm on the second train now, and I actually caught the earlier train both times. I'll make it there with time to spare."

The phone emitted a laugh. "That's good to hear. It'd be bad if you picked up that nasty little habit again as soon as you got back."

Barry huffed. "You know I always try to be on time. It's just things sometimes get in the way. And, yesterday was the only time I've been late so far, and that was because the trains managed to completely cut out my window for the switch. And, I wasn't that late anyways." Despite his aggravation, Barry couldn't help but laugh back into the phone. "What did you need to talk about?"

"Barry," the phone called back with a teasing tone. "You've only been back two days! Don't talk about it like it's a good sign."

"I was on time to my meeting with Captain Frye on Monday."

"That doesn't count!" Barry could just imagine her making a pouty and determined face at him. "But, back to the topic on hand. It wasn't exactly that I needed to talk to you. It's just that all those months you were in the hospital, I'd visit you on Fridays to talk about what was going on in my life. It was nice to get it off my chest, and standing there with you, I could just picture what you were going to say. I bet now that you're awake and can speak back it will be even better, especially now that you'll have some things to share as well. Unfortunately, I only just realized that with your schedule a bit busier than it was, I might have to actually schedule out a time for us to meet."

A smile crept onto Barry's face. "Well, my schedule has gotten surprisingly busy recently, but I think I can make time for my best friend. Just give me a moment to figure out when I am available."

"Hmm…" Iris waited on the other end of the line. "Fridays sort of became traditional for this thing, so if you're available anytime then that would be preferable."

Barry's brow creased. He had been planning to go to Starling on Friday. Due to the distance from Central to Starling – the other city was on the East Coast for crying out loud- train trips tended to last at least five to six hours even on the high speed rails, and he wanted to spend Saturday already there. On top of that, Barry was somehow hoping that he'd be able to run there. Sure Barry knew he could run fast; he'd passed cars on the highway like they were nothing, yet he had no idea how fast he was actually going. He had no number with which to compare his speed to other known velocities. Him against a bullet train? He'd actually have to race one to find out.

He took a breath. "We might have to meet today. I'm planning on going out of town this weekend. Would anytime today work for you?"

"I don't have anything between three and seven at which point my shift starts at Jitters. Well, nothing except homework, but I need to be sane to do that, and this will keep me sane." A slight pause. "Your work gets off at five right? We could meet a little after then. Also, I'm still in the same apartment if you don't mind meeting there."

Barry nodded. He was planning to do some tests after work to know whether he could make it to Starling, but he didn't have to do those right after work. He could wait. "And, go to six thirty? Sounds fine to me."

"You really want to hear me complain about my week for that long?" Iris teased. The question was automatically understood to be rhetorical; he'd already done it for her so many times before. A small chuckle escaped through the phone and Barry knew she was smiling on the other end as well. "On to more important matters though. You're going out of town this weekend? Where to? Plus, I don't want to sound overbearing or anything, but shouldn't you be resting a little more?"

"Iris, one question at a time," Barry reminded her. He heard a huff out of the phone. "The answer to the first question is 'I hope so'. Though I doubt he'd say no, I'm planning to run it by my supervisor today so that there is no way any of my bosses could say I wasn't in town when I was supposed to be. For the second question, I was planning to visit some people in Starling City." Barry could just see Iris's mouth opening to comment, but he cut her off. "Yes, this group of people includes, but is not limited to, Felicity." Barry swore he heard a reaction from Iris, but it wasn't clear to make out and didn't seem to be made out of words. "Finally, why is everybody making a big deal about the coma? I woke up almost two weeks ago. I'm fine. I swear."

"Barry." It was a simple statement, though its tone carried so much. "Most people take a while to completely recover from that sort of stuff, and you're not fine. The doctors never found out what had happened to your metabolism. You could be dying for all we know."

"Well, for now the only thing hurting is my wallet, and even so I've found ways to reduce costs." He said it firmly, though there was a hollow ring at the end.

Barry felt torn between rolling his eyes at Iris' statement and grimacing at its truth. On one hand, he did feel perfectly fine, and the results from the tests yesterday didn't find anything wrong. He wanted to enjoy what was happening to him rather than constantly fret about it. But, Iris also had a point, even if she didn't know how well it applied. Though the tests might allow him to relax a little bit, he still had no idea how his new abilities worked or why he had them. And, without fully understanding his abilities, he couldn't deny Iris' claim outright.

However, Barry wasn't going to tell Iris this. He was trying to avoid the thought himself, and he didn't want Iris to worry any more than she already was

While the two siblings had been arguing about Barry's health, Barry had felt the train begin to slow down, and he had heard the conductor start to announce the station. "Iris, I'm sorry, and I know that it seems like I'm trying to get out of this conversation, but my train stop is coming up, and I really don't want to miss it."

"You're right. It does sound like you're trying to get out of this, but don't let me make you be late. Go."

"You can bug me about it when we meet after work. Bye." He only waited a moment for Iris's farewell before closing his phone.

The train stopped. Barry disembarked. He headed to work.

Weaving his way through the sea of cubicles, Barry worked his way towards Thawne's office. By now he knew where it was situated, but he could also just follow the weird feeling he got whenever Thawne was around.

Barry frowned.

It wasn't that he disliked Thawne particularly. The man seemed to be a capable detective, and a decent person. He wasn't completely bull shitting his way through science. He seemed to want to look out for Barry. He wasn't as strict as Patty had been, but he was still involved in making sure Barry was on track and on task. Barry respected him and could get along with him.

Yet, there always was something off about the man, which Barry somehow couldn't get past. Though Barry felt like he really should like the guy and that they could be friends, whenever he was actually with Thawne nothing seemed to click. Barry never actively avoided the man, Barry also got the feeling that he wasn't going to just drop by with the latest news or findings. While Barry should have been overjoyed that Thawne believed in the impossible and experienced it himself- and don't get it wrong, for a moment Barry had been positively ecstatic- he also couldn't bring himself to ask the man about it. Sure, Barry had never intended to nag or pry, but a question or two wouldn't hurt. In fact, bringing the shared experience out into the open would probably be good for them.

Eventually, however, he reached the small office space, and he broke out of his thoughts. "Um… hi."

Thawne, who had been hunched over his desk, turned around. "Hello. It seems you've managed to arrive."

Barry gave a nervous laugh. "Early in fact. The trains actually gave me a chance to switch off today." He took a deep breath and then shifted his lips as if the words weren't exactly sure how to fit into his mouth. "I typically wasn't as late as I was yesterday, and I'm thinking about trying out a new form of transportation anyways. If it works out, I shouldn't be late as much."

Thawne's lips immediately became a smile. "I hope you don't end up late at all, and I trust you can do it."  
>"I meant 'at all'," Barry admitted. His shoulder's dropped. "Unfortunately, I've tried so hard in the past and kept on failing that the skepticism has become reflexive at this point."<p>

A frown creased Thawne's face before disappearing. "Still," he shrugged, "How is the lab work going? Have you stumbled across anything interesting?" The man stared directly at Barry, his brow tensed with what could be curiosity.

Barry nodded. "There appear to be some weird results, and though we're not exactly sure yet how we are going to use those to track the arsonist down, anything out of the usual typically provides more information than the criminal wants us to know. Unfortunately, we will still need to run a few more tests and finish some up before we could have anything really useful. Julio and I could check in with you after lunch if we have anything important. I was planning to email the results of the tests which I've already done once I got to the lab."

Thawne squinted and nodded slowly. Barry recognized the sentiment. He had expected more, but as soon as he had heard the news he had known how idiotic the assumption had been. "Sounds good. I'll be sure to look them over before lunch then."

Barry was about to shift the conversation towards his planned excursion away from Central when something hit him as weird.

He pressed his lips together as he realized a piece of logistics had yet to be worked out. It was like when you decide to meet up with a friend on the weekend to do something but when the weekend arrives you have to call them up because neither of you worked out where precisely you were going to meet. Certain details can be so crucial to implementing plans but so easy to overlook when forming them. In this case, Barry realized that while Thawne seemed knowledgeable about science that didn't mean he was used to reading raw scientific reports. Moreover, while he had requested a copy of everything he would have sent Patty Spivot, the two of them probably wanted different things out of it.

Barry cringed. He probably would have realized this last night if he hadn't rushed through the reports in order to get to his other experiments.

"Uh… you don't have to read through all of what I'm about to send you. Patty Spivot did because she could offer me advise as a fellow CSI and frankly she knew most of the tests better than I did. And, it was kind of her job to make sure I was doing them correctly, whereas you probably just want to know how it will affect the investigation. A lot of it will just be going through the technicalities of what Julio and I did."

Thawne gestured at the strictly organized and yet almost overflowing piles which covered his desk. "I'll try to make time for reading the reports completely, and the only problem there is whether I can get to that by lunch. Otherwise, I'll make sure to at least skim everything. Knowing where the evidence comes from will help me use it correctly. Normally that's not a big deal because we've all been through these things fifty times before, but I'd be surprised if anything about this case went routinely."

Barry's eyebrows rose. He'd expected Thawne to accept the offer. "Still, I wasn't lying when I said that it could get a bit technical. It might not be that big of a problem this time, but I could add a little bit of explanation in plain English in the future."

"Don't worry about adding anything," Thawne smiled. "I'm sure I'll be able to handle it, and I don't want anything dumbed down." Thawne's eyes slid back to his work as he anticipated the end of the conversation.

Barry blinked, remembering all of the years and effort he'd spent learning the definitions and properties before they became second nature. Still, he decided that Thawne was just trying to be helpful, and if it really ended up being a problem, Thawne would mention it. Time to move on to other things. "I have one more question before I head to the lab."

Thawne's head snapped in Barry's direction, and he nodded for Barry to continue.

"This could be a totally ridiculous question, but would it be ok if I left the city this weekend?" Thawne tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Captain Frye had such a stern expression when my absences came up, and I'll have to jump through so many hoops to get a sick day let alone any vacation time. So, while it is crazy, I got the feeling that he wanted to be able to call me in at any time whatsoever, which… will be a little hard if I'm a couple hundred miles away."

Thawne's eyebrows lowered, and his lips together in consideration. "It should be fine." The eyebrow shot back up. "Where you headed?"

"To Starling City," Barry hesitantly offered.

Thawne nodded like that meant something.

Of course, it could mean something; Barry had no idea how detailed the rumor was. He could have asked Patty Spivot about it. Unfortunately, both of them had technically been working when they'd previously talked and thus didn't have time to systematically go through all of the unexplained cases which had grabbed his attention and lay out what people knew about each one. He could have asked Forrest about it last night, but both of them had been too eager to forgive and forget to continue discussing the topic.

Barry tried to deflect Thawne's suspicions. "I met some people there recently. Some of them were nice enough to visit me when I was in the hospital, but they didn't have a chance to swing by once I woke up. I figured I'd go to them this time."

"They're from Queen Consolidated." Thawne stated it as fact. Apparently, he wasn't convinced.

"For the record, I may have met them on my previous trip, but my reason for going this time is not related to the incident that originally drew me there." This was getting frustrating. Well, he could always just ask Thawne what he knew. "You mentioned that you'd heard about my… previous interest in the unexplained. How much exactly is out there about that?"

"I didn't think it would be related to the case you had helped them with." Thawne flashed Barry a sympathetic smile. "Knowledge that whatever you did there went well was already out when I first arrived. Not confirmed, not widely believed, and certainly not detailed. But it was out there." His jaw tensed, and he looked Barry in the eye. "Captain Frye talked to me a little bit about your interest in the unexplained, but he didn't go into much detail. Only that you'd occasionally left to look into weird cases, and what some of those involved in the vaguest sense. He seemed to know more about what was going on, but he wouldn't offer anything else."

"So, you went to Patty?"

Immediately, Thawne's lips turned inward, and his eyes dropped. "I figured some of the stuff was personal, and I didn't need to know it. But, I also wanted to know more about you, and talking to a previous supervisor was logical." He forced his eyes upward. "I'm not going to hold any of this against you, and I'm sorry this got out."

Barry sighed. The man genuinely regretted the action, and he appeared pained by it. "Accidents happen, and you did say you've experienced the impossible yourself. I won't blame you for this."

Thawne took a deep breath. "You probably want to hear about what I meant by that."

"It would be nice, but not necessary."

"I'd like to tell you, but I can't go into details," Thawne glanced in Barry's direction, and Barry nodded that it was ok. He felt the same pressure clogging his throat. "I can say that for most of my life it was there but never really present, like a story lurking in the background. But, then I tried to confront it." An emotion flew across Thawne's face and left before Barry could identify it. Was it grief? Or guilt? Thawne took another deep breath. "But, I came here to get away from all that."

Barry gave a hallow laugh. "Must suck that all this started up here."

"No. This is completely different. Trust me when I say that even you wouldn't believe what I came from."

"Well, you'll never know what I'll believe until you tell me," Barry offered, palms outward. He then shrunk. "I mean… I've…"

Thawne nodded. "It's fine." He paused, opened his mouth, and then froze as if he were trying to hold back a smile. He didn't move. Snapping out of it, Thawne shook his head, though it couldn't completely shake the smile out. "This went beyond impossible and straight into mind fuck." He shook his head again. His facial muscles relaxed. "But, that was a long digression for a simple question. Point is if Captain Frye asks I'll tell him I signed off on it."

Barry blinked, remembered how this originally started, and then smiled. "Thank you. See you after lunch then?"

"Yes," Thawne replied as he turned back to his work.

Barry walked to his lab. A smile graced his lips. It seemed like things would work out.

A little before one o'clock, Barry and Julio walked to their lab to find Thawne leaning against the door. "I figured that you guys shouldn't always come to me, and I wanted this meeting anyways."

Barry scrunched his eyebrows. "I was the one that brought it up…"

Thawne stepped away from the door, so that the two lab assistants could open the door. "Only after I asked you how things were going. I should have realized that you'd feel pressured to show something after that. You'd email me once we had something definite."

Julio rolled his eyes and reached for the door. "We have something alright. We have several things. There's just no way to make heads or tails of them. Have the detectives had any more luck?" An eyebrow rose as a challenge.

The door opened. Everyone entered.

Thawne gave a huff. "I can't say we have. It's not like we have any suspects to shake down. Or anybody really." Thawne gave a huff but still smiled. He obviously hadn't expected much to begin with. "We confirmed with an inspection company that they had looked over the buildings alarm system not long before the burn, and apparently everything had checked out. Also, we did track down most of the owners of the evidence from the bag. Two pieces were from first, but most of the stuff had been grabbed from second floor." Thawne glanced between the two CSI's for their reaction.

Barry's eyes widened but otherwise managed to keep a straight face, at least he hoped so. Julio, meanwhile, squinted, "That's weird. Why would he skip a floor?" He opened the door wide and stepped into the lab.

"Hell, if I'd know." Thawne held up a finger. "However, some people did say they thought they saw a figure in the smoke. Most of them weren't entirely sure about it, and no one caught any details, but it's was enough that I could convince the other detectives to keep an open mind. Detective Rickards even offered to interview witnesses to previous fires in case we'd missed something."

Julio titled his head forward and pressed his lips together. Barry raised an eyebrow, "And, nobody mentioned it before?"

Thawne took a step back, "Well, no. At least it's not listed in any of the reports or any of the transcripts I've read." He glanced between the two CSI's. "You guys saw how thick that smoke was; you'd be lucky if you could see the god damn apartment complex through it." Thawne's hands gestured outward to indicate that he was referring to the building's size. "Plus, most of the other buildings that have gone up were wider, so we couldn't watch every exit. Or, the buildings in the area were too dense, so the arsonist conceivably could have hopped into an alleyway or another building." Thawne continued to glance between the CSI's. "This is good news."

"Barry wasn't blaming you for it. It's just… " Julio slouched. His eyes slid towards Barry and then back to Thawne. "Right on the way back here we had been discussing how the arsonist is so ambivalent about whether or not he wants to be inside the building or not. It's quite frustrating. He should make up his mind."

Barry gave a small laugh. Discussing wasn't quite the word for what they had done; discussing makes it sound like they were being productive. It was more of a shared bout of venting over fast food.

Thawne stared at Julio in confusion, and Barry decided to explain. "It isn't the arsonist who can't make up his mind. He's either inside the building during the fires or not, and whatever the case was for the previous fire probably was the case for the others as well. The arsonist doesn't seem like the kind of person to change a routine up, not without a push. But, the evidence swings one way and then the other with no middle ground. A few people seeing things in shifting columns of smoke does little to settle things one way or the other."

Thawne nodded for Barry to continue.

"First…" Barry paused. First, he knew what he had seen in the building. The arsonist was there, and he could walk through fire like it was nothing. He had a gun which could spray fire and also fire retardant. The device in question wasn't much bigger than a pistol or a nail gun. The arsonist wore a white suit and carried a bag which could also withstand the fire. The bag was sitting on the table behind his supervisor, and the fire retardant had previously cooled it.

But, Barry couldn't just say these things. People would want explanation, and what would he tell them? Oh, yes, I saw him while I was in the building. Yes, this was after the first floor had gone up. Well, I managed to get out of the building by running _really_ fast. No, you probably didn't see me, though I went out the front door. By the way, I left the bag.

On top of that, Barry was beginning to find that the certainty firsthand experience afforded him did not mean that he knew what was going on. The evidence reminded him of that.

"First," Barry started again, "We have the bag which appeared in front of the building after the first floor originally went up. Not that we know where it came from, but it is fire proof and contained assorted belongs from the apartments." Thawne looked like he was about to say something. Barry decided to cut him off. "We already know all of this, but it is a good place to start." Thawne nodded. "Point is, the arsonist is the most probable owner of the bag. Moreover, the existence of a fire proof bag suggests that the arsonist was going to be in the fire."

As Barry paused at the thought, and Julio leaned in, "I'll also add that while we have no idea how the bag got there, it was far closer to the building than to the crowd, and it had not been seen before the fire had started. That isn't to say that we then know that the arsonist had the bag or that the arsonist had been in the building, but it is highly suggestive."

"Yeah," Thawne agreed. "It's… suggestive." Thawne glanced at Barry.

Barry shrugged. "True. Now to move on to what we've discovered about the bag since finding it as that will actually be news to you."

"Ok."

"The bag is not only fireproof, but it also has an elaborate cooling system. Tests done both last night and this morning suggest that it not only cools the interior relative to the heat applied to the exterior but that it also does a better job than any fabric of similar weight. Some are actually better, but those practically involve carrying around a small refrigerator. Not very lightweight or concealable."

Barry took a breath, and cringed. "Unfortunately, better than anything we could do now, it still isn't good enough for him to be able to get away with walking around in the fire, at least not without suffering noticeable burns. The predicted temperature within a suit made of that material during the initial cooler burns would be 130º degrees Fahrenheit. During the hotter burns, the predicted temperature is closer to 140º, though actually slightly less. In the first case, a quarter of a minute in the fire would give the arsonist second degree burns. The arsonist would be able to recover from such burns, but they would be noticeable and conspicuous. A half a minute in the fire, and he would have third degree burns. Those leave irreparable damage."

Thawne's eyebrow twitched. "We have some reason to believe that he's in there until the end, so what are the times for the explosions?"

"And, the story doesn't end there," Julio piped up. "Even if he could get away without the burns it would be hella' uncomfortable. Not just because of how it physically feels, though. This person would be walking a fine line between being totally fine and being burnt to a crisp. I mean even if the guy likes fire, he'd want to live to see stuff burn another day. Unless he was a whole new level of crazy."

Julio gestured outward emphatically, "I mean imagine. You can go through the fire, but even a few seconds makes your skin warm and red. You can see the building burning to a crisp around you, and one time you stood into long in the flames your skin felt sensitive for a week. A shiver passed through Julio's spine. "It would certainly get to me, but- goddamn it- what is the point of a super high tech cooling system if it doesn't let you go into the building and be close to the fire?" He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Thawne glanced between the CSI's with his eyes narrowed. "Both of you have mentioned how advanced the cooling technology is. Do either of you know how it works?"

Barry's eyes turned downward. This wasn't really his area of expertise.

Julio meanwhile furrowed his eyebrows. "No." He smiled as if to say that he hated every moment of it. "I can't trace any chemical reactions happening in the material when it is heated, nor are there any obvious state changes in the substance. I can't even figure out where the energy is going, let alone how it is getting… there."

"Well, it's another mystery on the heap. I doubt any of us are surprised considering what case we are working on." Still, despite Thawne's optimistic words, Barry could see the weight fall on his shoulders.

Julio meanwhile glared ahead. "I was expecting some weirdness when Captain Frye asked me whether I wanted onto this taskforce. However, having a sample of a coolant in front of me, I should have _some_ idea of how it works. Maybe I just don't have the precision to detect the changes. It does look like our tests for the high temperatures we did this morning will turn out good, but I know I'll have to work to find anything. It's just…" Julio sighed. "I'm supposed to be able to do these things. Maybe I don't need to understand everything, but the world is supposed to make sense."

Barry took a deep breath. "Sometimes it doesn't."

"It will make sense again once we find the manufacturer." Julio said it as a fact. The world bows to the will of science even if he doesn't have the resources to understand it alone. But, that was a part of the world; you didn't have to tackle it alone. Julio always had his lab mate, his follow workers at the CCPD, and the scientific community as a whole to help him. He wouldn't give in to the possibility. Maybe no one could yet figure out what happened in the center of black holes or how to merge quantum theory with relativity. But those weren't the things that mattered, at least not to him and certainly not to the case.

"Manufacturer?" Thawne asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's one of the few hopes we have. Both the coolant and the bag are too complicated for a single person to make even if somebody were to understand completely how they worked." Barry stepped back into giving the explanation. "The coolant, for example, contains a number of exotic compounds which aren't easily accessible. Hell, Julio and I don't couldn't even recognize some of them, let alone where you would acquire them. And even if the arsonist managed to acquire the chemicals for the coolant, there are fibers throughout the coolant which catalyze its solidification when exposed to air probably because the arsonist is using the substance as an external fire retardant as well. It would probably take very specialized equipment to handle the substance during the bag's creation and otherwise."

"I don't want to sound too pessimistic, but what if you can't track the retardant down to a manufacturer?"

"We have joked about what if the ideas behind how the fire retardant works are known but they're classified. We decided to deal with the men in black suits when they come for us," Barry laughed. "More seriously, we can't think of any other reasons why we wouldn't be able to find at least something. Any company who came up with something like this would be advertising it like crazy. They'd have hordes of potential customers, and if they had stock, it would sky rocket even if they weren't done tweaking the substance.

"That failing, we will try for the compounds inside the coolant, and then if we can't find suppliers for any of those, we can always try looking for something a little simpler like the bag's fabric. Plus," Barry smiled, "We still have yet to fully analyze the stairway samples. The bag had taken precedence once we discovered how weirdly its coolant worked, and we think that the arsonist is probably using the coolant as the fire retardant. Foaming in the presence of air does not appear to be a property of the material itself, at least not without the added fibers, and it certainly doesn't do any good that way. So, now that we understand the coolant better and have seen how it reacts under heat we have something to look for."

Thawne nodded before perking up. "You guys have been complaining about not knowing whether or not the arsonist is in the building. Wouldn't finding traces of the retardant help prove that the arsonist was in the building? We did have people inside up until nearly the very end." At this point Barry received looks from the other two people in the room. "And, none of the officers or volunteers mentioned seeing anything suspicious."

"It would certainly be stronger evidence than anything else we have," Julio mumbled before shooting Thawne a pointed expression. "Complaining isn't quite the word for what we are doing, and if we are, we are doing it knowing full well that we still have time to work and could probably figure some of it out. I will also say that we could only get any useful tests just before lunch. Whatever fire retardant the arsonist is using only collapses at high enough temperatures, and good news is that the coolant is the same. We couldn't get those temperatures until we submitted a special form for the equipment this morning." Julio paused while raising a hand. "Also, we weren't done complaining. The conversation just got sidetracked."

"Oh," Thawne said with an amused smile, stepping forward. "There's more?"

"Yes," Julio said flatly. He waited a moment before Thawne gestured to continue. Julio leaned forward, "Ok, so assume we knew the arsonist was in the building during the fire. He probably would have been wearing a suit made out of a similar material to the bag, though maybe with a reinforced cooling system because he is trying to protect his life and not just some goods he snatched. Well, the bag is lightweight enough that you could easily stash the material away; he could even stash the suit in the bag if he wanted. But, at every single fire, there has been a large crowd outside the building. Perhaps there has been a place he could sneak, but he probably couldn't afford to do so in full costume."

Thawne continued to stare at Julio. Julio rolled his eyes and flourished his hands, "The only time he'd have to change is in the smoke!"

"I mean you saw me right after I got hit with the smoke, and I was just standing next to the building," Barry chirped in. "Plus, the doctors said I'm a fast healer."

Barry had the feeling that he healed a little faster than even the doctors were predicting, but then again he was a little closer to the fire than he was letting on, even if he had only been that close for a fraction of a second. He decided to call it even between the two distortions.

Julio pointed at Barry while facing Thawne. "This one claims he's ok. Don't believe him." Barry rolled his eyes. "I know you let him go up on that ledge, but you weren't with him during lunch yesterday. The only reason he let the food touch him was because he needed to get it to his mouth. There was also that one time he started hacking because 'a piece of food' tickled the back of his throat wrong', and I'm not talking about the 'euh' the rest of us do when that happens."

"Oh, please, I did just fine at lunch today."

Thawne nodded, "And your skin was a healthy shade even just this morning."

Julio glowered. "He may look fine, but I don't entirely believe he is fine, at least not yet. But, the point still stands. Imagine the arsonist feeling and looking like Barry had after coming out of the building. Even if he managed to sneak into an adjacent building, he'd look pretty suspicious and probably would for a while."

"Moreover, there have only been a few times when the department had people in the building. This time he may have had an excuse if someone glanced his way, but that wouldn't have been true for most of the fires." Barry wanted to get the conversation back on track.

Thawne absorbed the information for a moment. "We did look for anybody checking into the hospital shortly after the fires, but we couldn't find anything that wasn't supposed to be there. Well, nothing fire related. We accidentally stumbled across some things related to other cases, but nothing related to this one." He scrunched his mouth in annoyance. "But, what if the arsonist was immune to the fire somehow? If he could cool himself down or had fireproof skin?"

Barry considered the option, scrunching his eyebrows. While he was certainly willing to entertain the idea, he had seen the arsonist in some sort of protective gear inside the building. Why would he do that if he could survive it anyways?

While Barry was mulling the idea over, Julio leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't happen. People don't survive those temperatures. We can list off the exact things that happen to someone's body when exposed to those temperatures, and it's not pretty. In fact, if I remember from yesterday, there are a few particularly gruesome examples just down the hall. Do you want to go see them yourself?"

"I assume under this idea, the bag was purely to protect the arsonist's loot from harm because melted iPads don't sell for nearly as much? That he wouldn't need any extra protection against the fire?" Barry questioned still trying to decide his opinion on the idea.

Julio shot him a glare.

Thawne squinted, titled his head one way and then the next. "Well, he'd need something, so his clothes didn't catch on fire. As much as a burned arsonist stands out, a naked one would probably stand out more. Plus, you guys mentioned that coolant had an upper limit. Perhaps this ability does as well."

Julio continued to appear unconvinced and a tad annoyed by this turn in the conjecturing.

Meanwhile, something clicked in Barry's brain. His eyes widened. He turned to his lab mate and mouthed 'the coolant'.

Julio's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, no. While the organic components of the coolant are mainly proteins they don't resemble any in the human body within a point mutation. Or two. Or three. Plus, we have no way to plausibly assume that it is even safe to have in the blood stream. My gut reaction on that would be that it's not."

"But you don't know that, and I don't know that," Barry retorted with a smile. "Plus, the fibers and the related additives caused most of the blue coloring in the coolant. Otherwise it would have been yellow considering the amount of plasma inside the solution, which was disproportionate to the number of red blood cells we found throughout it. That proportion wouldn't make sense if the arsonist, or whoever made the thing, cut themselves while working with it, but it would make sense if the solution had been created by filtering blood. Moreover, it would make sense that the arsonist would need an extra layer if the concentration in his blood wasn't high enough to handle those temperatures, but he'd still be able to withstand the hot smoke with little to no burning." Julio gave Barry a deadpan stare. "It might not be true but it's worth checking out."

"We don't even know whether those blood cells are human or not." Julio rolled his eyes. "It's a crazy idea, but this is a crazy case. You can do that on your own time though. I plan to do the sample pile of doom next."

Barry nodded. "Fine by me, though I will research possible manufacturers first."

"So what just happened? I caught something about human blood and the coolant, but you seemed to be talking about some results I haven't seen yet." Thawne wore an amused expression. He opened his mouth to speak again, reconsidered, and then finally spoke, "Are you guys suggesting the guy is injecting himself with it?" Thawne didn't have his heart in that idea.

"Well, no. More like the opposite," Barry explained. "Injecting one's self probably wouldn't do much good at least not in the sort of quantities you'd be able to fit in a syringe, and the fiber additives probably aren't that good for you. However, we found traces of blood and particularly plasma in the solution. Perhaps it was made from the blood instead of injected into it. The arsonist's DNA would have to be special in order for his body to naturally produce the chemicals, and how special is the main problem Julio and I were discussing. Whatever allele would cause this isn't exactly common otherwise, or for that matter known."

Thawne tilted his head and looked Barry in the eye. "And you think that it is the case?"

Barry fumbled. "I think it's worth looking into. I don't know whether it is possible let alone whether that is how the arsonist is getting away unscathed. But, we don't know very much at all about the coolant, so that isn't saying much. What I do know is that a lot of things would make sense if that were the case."

Thawne turned to Julio. "And, you don't agree?"

"Some things would make more sense, yes," Julio nodded. "But a really big question would remain: How exactly does a person's body start producing this stuff? It's not exactly a simple substance.

"Moreover, I believe in the impossible. There are bacteria on the sea floor living off chemicals I can't even dream of. CERN and Hubble have shown us crazy things. STAR Labs might eventually come up with a quantum computer. However, while we might learn new things about the human body, people aren't impossible. Well… sometimes they are, but those are personality problems. Fortunately, despite his metabolic problem and that he can believe some weird stuff, Barry and I have talked. He's not impossible. Do we need to have that talk?"

Julio ended that note with a smile while he stared directly at Thawne.

Barry turned away. Julio and he had had that conversation, but that was before all of this. Back when the only impossible person was his mother's murderer. Back when an impossible person was an ephemeral glimpse inside a blur with all too permanent consequences. Before every syllable and action his friend uttered and took had slowed and stretched time itself. Before a spark flickered in the back of his mind tempting him to run, to redefine basic terms to mean something previously inconceivable.

Julio had had that conversation with someone else.

"No." Thawne said flatly. "I don't care to share exactly what I believe or try to convince you that what I believe is right. The world is weirder than you think, but talking about it won't make you accept that. However, that isn't what this case is about. Trust that I will follow whatever leads I feel are the most productive and that your work here will do a large part to inform me of that."

Thawne's voice had an authoritative and distant tone which had been missing in his earlier conversation with Barry. His muscles were stiff, and his expression was blank. Even though the statement wasn't leveled at him, Barry almost stepped back in response.

Julio narrowed his eyes. "We are working unexplained cases, and you are the taskforce liaison. What you think about the unexplained matters. But, you're right. We don't need to talk about it. Not yet. We've got work to do."

"Sounds like it." Thawne glanced between the two CSI's. His muscles relaxed. "Sorry. That was out of line. I should be able to tell you guys more. But…" He looked Barry in the eye. "I can't. I can say that sometimes in order to get what you want you need to take a chance in order to get what you want. A leap of faith. And, you don't know where you'll land. It is scary but it is something that you have to do. However, I also know that you make that leap of faith as informed as you can be. I believe there is a difference between faith and ignorance. That is what I think of the unexplained." Thawne took a deep breath. "I will let you guys work now."

Thawne turned on his heel and left the room.

Julio rolled his eyes. "He says it like I was asking him to shoot his own foot. He keeps this up, and people will think he has some deep dark secret."

"Maybe he does," Barry commented as he went back to his work station. "We both know I do."

Julio also started getting back to work. "But, isn't that stuff already out by now? I mean you believe in weird stuff; he believes in weird stuff. We've already established this. Do we have to continue dancing around it? Makes me think there's something more."

Barry leaned against a counter. "Julio, there are just some things that are hard to say." Barry thought back to the conversation he had had with Julio not long after Julio had found out about the night Barry's mom died. It took place several days after the news leaked, and in the meantime the knowledge sat just beneath the surface clashing between them. The resulting argument lasted past seven. The two had come out stronger because of it.

Barry opened his mouth and then closed it.

But, could Barry have that conversation with him now? Could Barry share what was happening to him?

Not being able to reassure people that he was safe without letting the doctors into the secret had held him back before; now, he had finally run the experiments to decide that this wasn't going to kill him. Well, he didn't have a result that strong, but he did know that moderate uses of his abilities didn't build up any damage. He no longer felt guilty every time he moved, wondering if the next moment his muscles would give up or if he'd collapse, unable to regulate basic nutrient such as blood sugar when his body burned it at unprecedented rates. Furthermore, he was planning to move onto the more extreme cases this evening, so it wouldn't be long before he could make a stronger claim.

Unfortunately, what Barry had was consolation not proof. He had a few solid tests, but no larger framework to say they were sufficient.

In science, one worked through hypotheses, not just for their own sake but for their relationship to a broader theory. Theories organized the world. They make it make sense. Otherwise, we only have a bunch of empirical data collected based upon a bunch of people's hunches. There wouldn't even be the formulas, the constants, the accepted ranges of variation, or logical connections in order to transform data into any conclusions. An accepted theory allows one to know when one has collected enough and when the probability that the data is hiding the truth is positive but negligible.

What theory would account for this?

On top of that, the reality created by science is supposed to be shared, not between one or two people but a whole community. People are supposed to be able to not just debate it but recreate it and partake in it. Yet, this time it wasn't just some law of nature in question; it was Barry's body and his experience. He didn't know how others could impersonally access his new reality, and he wasn't ready to let the whole scientific community get that close. Whoever he shared it with would have to buy it like magic.

Oh, Julio would have fun with that.

Barry decided to wait. He'd collect some more data and see if he could figure something out. He swallowed. It felt like he was copping out.

"I'm not going to blame him if he doesn't want to share." Barry glanced down at the counter and specifically the notebook lying on top of it. "Well, at least we have ideas to test and things to do. The people before didn't have much to work with." Barry somehow didn't sound as optimistic as he had hoped.

"Yet, for some reason I feel like we're more confused than everyone else was." Julio pulled himself onto a stool and stared at his counter like he expected it to say something. "I mean I know people sometimes say 'the more you see, the less you know', but I don't think they meant it like this." Julio gave the countertop one final glare. "It's annoying."

Barry laughed. "Annoying enough that you want to go back to the exact pile of frustration that drove you away?"

"Hey!" Julio was already getting aback to work, but he lifted his head up at the comment. "With only a little more work it seems that I'll finally be able to be productive with these samples. And, I love mysteries as much as the next CSI, but there comes a point when I want some straight answers." After a few moments hunched over his workspace, Julio spoke. "How did you continually seek out cases like this? Even just this one is driving me up the wall."

"Often they did drive me crazy, but most of the time it was because I'd traveled perhaps hundreds of miles expecting to find something weird and it wasn't really out there." Barry shrugged. "But when I did stumble across the unexplainable, I would handle it one piece at a time. I'd come up with an hypothesis that would make at least part of the situation make sense and work my way outward from there. Perhaps the arsonist is fireproof. I'll first see whether the coolant is toxic and, if not, see whether we can confirm that the blood is human and get any information we can out of it. Then, I'll figure out why the arsonist's blood contains it. Keep moving forward and trust you'll get somewhere"

Julio gave a humpf without looking up.

"I didn't say that made it not frustrating. It just helps you get through the frustrating bits. Hell, this case was already grating on my nerves. Thanks for snapping me out of it." Well, it wasn't just the case that was dragging on him. At least before he had the option to escape the mystery even if he rarely used it.

But he also had things to be thankful for. He was making progress on both mysteries, albeit slowly. Everybody had made it out of the apartment complex, he had caught a glimpse of the arsonist, and he now had a bag to examine. The arsonist hadn't counted on that, so if he pushed forward he would probably get information the arsonist didn't want the department to uncover. He could run safely, and running felt good. A smile flickered across Barry's lips. His new abilities certainly weren't a mystery to be complaining about.

Plus, in the big picture the other smaller mysteries surrounding his body, including his perception and his metabolism, weren't anything to worry about either. He didn't know the exact mechanisms behind them, but he knew that they probably helped his body function while running. The only annoying thing was that they didn't entirely turn off when he was moving slowly.

Barry opened up his notebook and jotted down a few ideas to get his mind going again.

Still, there was one mystery he could clear up quickly. "If this case is causing you so much pain, why'd you sign up?"

Julio rolled his eyes. "It didn't look too bad when Captain Frye first approached me. I didn't know what I was getting into." There was a pause. Julio winked. "Plus, Captain Frye mentioned he'd be approaching you as well, and I thought 'Would Barry even consider turning this down?' The, I went 'There's no chance in hell.' I also thought, 'Wouldn't Barry need someone to look after him?'…"

Barry didn't even wait for Julio to finish his dialogue before he started laughing. "Really?"

"Well, not so dramatically," Julio admitted. "But point is somebody needs to keep your head on the ground, while still being respectful that you know… you've been through enough shit over this."

Julio gave slight laugh. "But, you do have a point. We are lucky that we have what we have even if it's confusing. I mean the arsonist so far has been meticulous, but two things seemed to have thrown him off this time. First, he was spooked by something which probably related to the increased police presence in the building leading up to the fire. However, no one could have predicted that."

Apparently, the complex's owner had been telling the truth. If the owner had had the building's safety systems checked not long before the fire by an outside agency, that the fire alarms failed in the short time between that and when they were needed was a horrible twist of fate. And, yet through the churning of events, fate had given them the bag. Barry wouldn't have entered the building unless he had to, but once he was in, he certainly wasn't going to leave until he knew everyone was out. Without that, he wouldn't have run into the arsonist.

Considering what his friend said, Barry then rose an eyebrow. "And, what was the second thing?"

Julio pressed his lips together in the way he did when he didn't want to admit something. "I'm not going to say I know how the bag got outside the building. But, even if the arsonist was spooked, it wouldn't make sense for him to throw the bag out the window, and no one saw how it got there. Detective Rickards thought she saw something, and she is typically on top of her game, but even if she did see 'a blur', it doesn't give us much to work on. Until we know where the bag came from, I'll be thankful the arsonist had the bout of insanity or that 'blur' dropped it off. "

Barry glanced up and then back at his work. He smiled. Even though it had hurt like hell, and Julio now hovered over him like a mother hen because of it, dashing out of the building had done some good.

Note:

Dear Barry,

That talk took a little longer than expected. Sorry for wasting your time.

However, while you and Julio don't have many hard results to take to the rest of the task force, it sounds like you two certainly have been busy, and I don't blame you. I stuck you in over your heads.

Of course, you wouldn't completely understand how the coolant works; the quantum linkage which distributes the energy across the substance thus alleviating any one portion from undo stress… well it hasn't been conceptualized let alone invented yet. Even obtaining the proper entanglement requires knowledge of mystical, or rather semi-mystical, energy fields.

Dare I say most people haven't considered applying the scientific method to the principles of magic, and why would they?

The magical practice has become rather cultish ever since witch hunts drove most practitioners underground and burned the rest. Furthermore, practitioners don't typically have access to the wider network that would be necessary for true scientific study. On the other side of the coin, by the time mainstream society opened up enough to accept magic on terms that did not automatically connote demon worship or selling one's soul, anybody who practiced legitimate magic and not charlatanry had gone deep enough into hiding that there was nothing publicly available to prove that magic indeed even existed to be studied. Moreover, the magic using population had grown so thin, and anybody who might have stepped forward would feel the need to represent the whole community without easily being able to consult it, discouraging anyone from coming out to the scientific community and revealing what a farce this all is.

You getting your feet under yourself would help this situation certainly. It helped jolt people into realizing how little they actually know. And, you will put a better face on it than that shit show that will happen in Metropolis in a few years' time. The formation of the Justice League would help calm that situation down and provide even more meta-human and magical role models for Earth. Yet, you guys remained so secretive. You had good reason; I've seen what happens when the boundary between the League's public and private lives breaks down. But, it will only be in the later part of the 23rd century that the scientific community as a whole makes any real progress on understanding the basis for meta-human and magical powers.

Sorry.

Again.

You didn't need to hear that. Well, you didn't hear that, but the point remains that that was off topic. And… that rant had been building up inside of me ever since I first got here.

It took a lot of effort to get here. I practiced for what seems an eternity. I endured times when the speed force glared me down for not letting it give you the proper attention. I made plans so that when you woke up the proper challenge would greet you. I had worked up the resolve to come here, to enter this new world, to split my ties with home, and to take that leap of faith.

But, I still consider the other place home.

That whole rant reminds me that I have to bite my own tongue not to tell you everything, even when I know why I shouldn't. How can I think that you can understand my story, when there are parts of your own story that you aren't ready for? I can't tell you that you will be dead for twenty years. I can't tell you that you will go on trial for the murder of Professor Zoom. These pieces are a part of your story as much as any of your triumphs, and as much as I wish I could change them and make your story better at least for you, I can't. All I can do is add some small hopes along the way and prepare you for the challenges ahead.

Unfortunately, though fate gave mine its own turns and jabs, your story has informed my own. So, if I were to tell you my story, I would have to tell you yours. Not only would I have to tell you the parts you don't want to hear, but in telling you your story I might end up ensuring it does not exist. You are not supposed to know what awaits for you down the road, and, though in a way I am telling your story, I am not supposed to be a part of it.

On the other hand, your story is still incomplete, and despite all the research I did before embarking on this journey, I am still discovering new things about you. For example, I hadn't heard that you were going to Starling City. Most versions of the story I have heard don't have you and the Arrow particularly close. Most. The ones I trust, especially after coming here and seeing things for myself, say that you two actually helped each other out in your starting years. But, those just reflect a more nuanced reading already published of events. I have already mentioned that you guys weren't too keen on releasing personal information to the public, and I hope to discover more.

So, we continue in the dark, moving forward not knowing where the road will take us.

From,

A Fan


	15. Chapter 14: Processing

Guess what? I'm finally back and writing. I've already wasted too much of your time not updating, but I will say that as always I'm open to people pointing out mistakes or things that could use improving. Also, this chapter was beta'd by wilowoak_walker and my mother.

**Chapter 14: Processing**

Barry arrived early to Iris' small apartment. Well, not exactly early. They had agreed on a little after five and it was five minutes after. But, even without Barry's habit of arriving late- for which he apologized profusely every time- Iris would have given him until five twenty before expecting him to arrive.

So, she could honestly say it wasn't her fault when she had her lab work strewn across the only table in the home when the doorbell rang.

Iris glanced up at the sound and immediately starting putting her papers into a pile, before rushing to the door. Talking to Barry in the hospital had been nice, but the setting and Barry's still recovering condition had always been so depressing. It would be nice to see him up and about in a different environment; Iris would not entirely deny a few skips entering into the race.

She flung open the door to reveal her best friend, and Barry's face immediately snapped into a smile. It was like somebody had released a rubber band, and it resumed its original form. Because of course that ridiculous smile was Barry's natural expression, and seeing it made a smile appear on Iris's own face. Laughing, he seemed to grow an inch, and Iris noticed his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the side of his leg. They were going at quite a pace. She tilted her head and pressed, "You managed to arrive early this time."

His lips twitched further into a smile before he glanced down at the floor. His expression wavered. "Yeah. I think I finally found a way to get to places on time."

Iris squinted before shrugging it off. "That is what you said about the traffic app, but you now say that the taxi drivers never listen to you."

Barry raised an eyebrow. "That is because they never do listen, but this time I really think it will work out."

"So long as you don't sleep in or get too engrossed in work or-" Iris was shaking her head, but she couldn't shake the smile off of her face. Barry's constant tardiness might annoy her, but she could never stay mad at him for it. His apologies were always so sincere, and how much his face lit up when he actually made it on time.

Meanwhile, she stood to the side holding her hand back to beckon Barry in. Barry shot Iris an offended face- "It doesn't happen all the time"- but he walked inside.

Iris closed the door behind him. "So, how has your week been?"

Barry hung his coat in the first room to his right. "I thought we were going to talk about your week? You said you've had a stressful one."

"You've had your first week back on the job since you've woken up from a coma. I'm sure my week pales in comparison." Iris grabbed Barry's wrist and led him to her small couch. "So, how are you settling back in? You still feel ok? Did you get any cool cases?"

Barry laughed, shaking his head. His wrist like always remained comfortably in her arm and, indeed, leaned into it. "I'm settling back in just fine. I have my old lab and labmate which helps, though I do have a new boss." Iris saw Barry's face visibly drop at the statement, and her own lips twitched downward in response. "He's one of those people who'd probably be really great, and you want to be friends with him, but you aren't. It just makes everything even more awkward." He shrugged and sighed.

"Well, you can't win all the time." She quirked her lips into half a smile. "Remember the summer after freshman year of college?"

That provoked a laugh out of Barry. That summer, neither of the two friends had found anything academic to do over the summer, or rather they'd missed the deadlines for most of the summer opportunities, so they'd both decided to get summer jobs to fill their pockets for the next year. While Barry had landed a post not too far from his roommate, Iris had landed a position at a summer camp half way across the state. She had loved the kids, and she didn't mind her other counselors. Well, most of the other counselors. But, even those who weren't mean never seemed to click with her. It was an odd experience. She spent every afternoon Skyping with Barry.

Unfortunately, the smile slipped back off of Barry's face. He stared across the room. "It's not even just that we're not friends. I can handle not being friends with my boss. Patty was pretty distant from Julio and I, and that was fine. It's just…" Barry gestured outward. "It's like he wants to be friends, but he's holding back too much to actually connect with anyone. It makes it so that I'm not so sure how to act myself."

Iris placed a hand on Barry's shoulder. He looked towards her.

"Maybe your new boss just takes a while to open up, and something tells me you aren't just stressed out about him."

Barry opened his mouth, and then shut it. "Yet, again you manage to derail the conversation. You've said you've had a stressful week, and I want to hear about it."

"Bartholomew Henry Allen," Iris titled her head and spoke in mock seriousness, "We are not going to have a polite war. We will both talk about our weeks. You go first."

Iris immediately knew that was a mistake. One of those mistakes that didn't matter, but a mistake none the less. Barry's eyes immediately lit up. "Oh, I thought that was exactly what we were going to do."

Iris squinted her eyes. "You won't stop until I share at least a little, will you?"

A shit-eating smile spread across Barry's face. He shook his head as quick as a cat, which is to say Iris worried about his brain rattling around in his skull. "Nope."

"Even though this is just an evil plot to make sure I don't have a chance to make sure you are actually OK."

An exaggerated innocent expression took over Barry's face, but only after unease flashed across his features. It passed faster than Barry had ever been able to suppress his emotions before, but Iris didn't need much time to recognize the emotion, especially on Barry's face. But, it is gone, and he is now talking. "Iris, I'm fine. I feel… great even. Don't worry." Iris can't help but notice his hesitation.

It hurts that there is something bothering him that he won't tell her, but she knows that prying it out of him would probably cause more harm than it was worth.

She remembered the first few years he had lived in their house. Not the months after her father had dragged the confused boy home with him; Barry had been so obviously broken then, and he could barely make a move to hide it. It was the years after that when Barry tried to pretend everything was ok. Sometimes he'd come right out and say that he missed his mother, that he wished his father wasn't in jail, or that some bully such as Tony had brought it up as leverage against him. Sometimes he'd bottle it up and refuse to admit anything was wrong.

Even then Iris could see through his bullshit; Barry Allen had never been a good liar. Iris kept him company and offered him hugs.

She might not have understood why he insisted that an impossible blur had killed his mother, as if arguing that his father was a good person wasn't enough. But, if that was his way of coping, she wouldn't hold it against him. She just wanted him to be happy and healthy, and obsessing over his mother's murder dragged him away from those goals. It ate his time and energy and stole his smiles and sunshine; she would never forgive it for that.

So, Iris tried not to mention it to Barry and shot down her father, who should know better to bring it up. (He found ways to encourage Barry's lingering in disguise, which riled Iris further.) And, Iris asked him to talk about the things that he loved such as science and nature, or she'd regale him with a funny event that had happened in one of her classes. She had discovered that she couldn't vanquish this evil herself, so she at least tried to protect him from it.

"Iris?" Barry's voice questions. While Iris was in thought, silence had dragged on for far too long.

She looked into his eyes. This wasn't about his mother's murder, at least not directly. She'd play along for now, but she needed to find out what was wrong with him. The idea that it was health related lingered in her thoughts a moment too long.

Iris described her week. She told Barry how her research was going, and about that one time she thought she'd messed the procedure up. Turns out she hadn't or at least it hadn't mattered, and the research team could roll with it. Yet, that hadn't stopped her from freaking out and apologizing to the rest of the team profusely for the rest of the week. She told Barry about one of her coworkers who didn't seem to know what they were doing. She kept on trying not to get mad at them, but after the umpteenth ba-jillionth time of explaining something innocuous to the person, she just couldn't bring herself to not hold a grudge.

Barry's face returned to its natural smile. His eyes perked up and down at the correct moments in her stories. He occasionally offered an insightful comment, but for the most part he simply listened. Iris was grateful.

But, the moment came when Iris was going to find out what was happening with Barry. They had already spent forty minutes talking, and she needed to leave the apartment by six thirty so that she could prepare herself for her shift at Jitters.

"So, Barry, you really feeling OK? You answered the question earlier, but you seemed to hesitate, and…" Iris sighed. Barry looked down. "I don't know what you would be keeping from me."

She saw Barry take a breath and smile at her like he was going to tell her everything was ok, but that expression quickly dissipated. He looked back at the ground.

Iris had not been smiling, but somehow her expression managed to fall anyways.

Barry's shoulders rolled in thought. His head slumped down an inch. His thumbs began a nervous battle. His right foot thrummed quietly against the floor.

Iris swallowed. She had never seen those nervous twitches on him before.

Or rather she had, when it looked like he was going to ask somebody out on Valentine's Day. He never did despite how much she tried to encourage him and cheer him up, and she had wondered how he could think anybody could turn down a person who had so much love and life to give. And, then her own date had arrived. Iris had wanted to stay with him, but every time he paused for a moment before he told her to enjoy her date.

She had seen it on other occasions as well. When he had left for college, he had been a nervous wreck. She had watched him stare holes into the walls as he waited for the colleges to respond to his applications. As a ritual or spell, he had written down the days until he heard back from his top choice on the corners of his classes' whiteboards in small dry-erase print. Despite the fact that he had chosen to live in his own apartment after college- in order not to burden Daniel anymore, he had claimed- Iris had seen him go through similar motions in anticipation of applying for the CCPD.

But, each time the twitches and movement had been an afterthought, pieces of energy that escaped from his desperate attempts to clamp himself down, maintain control, and think his way through the situation.

His hard expression suggested that he was trying to do the same thing now, but for some reason the energy escaped more violently this time, fluttering outside of his control.

Barry rubbed the bridge of his nose. His hands brushed the hair above his ears. His arms returned to his knees.

Iris placed a hand on his thigh.

"I do feel great, but there is something I should have told you. A week ago. When it first started." He gave half a laugh. "Hell, there were signs when I first woke up. The world seemed to be moving slower, and I didn't want anyone to worry about it especially because everybody was already freaking out about how much I ate." Barry rolled his head. "Admittedly, I also just wanted to get back to my life as soon as possible, to get back to when lightning hadn't stolen ten months of my life, and I thought I wouldn't be able to do that if I told anyone. I also thought that if I learned to deal with how slowly everyone was talking and being, then I would eventually be able to just ignore it."

Barry took a deep breath. Iris pressed down with her hand to comfort him. "But, that isn't the main thing even. You know how I always believed in the impossible, and I always tracked it down." Another half laugh escaped his lips. "Well, the impossible found me, and it won't go away."

Iris wanted to ask what he meant by the impossible, what he meant by everyone going slower? It didn't make any sense. But, Iris also knew that he would explain things given time. Instead Iris would help him through this. She'd question him later about how that was even possible and why he hadn't told anyone earlier. Hell, she would question him about why he didn't tell his doctors. Sure he might have wanted out of the hospital, but that decision was just stupid.

"Barry," she started. "I never wanted it to be about whether the impossible existed or not, though I guess it always was. And, I guess it was also about your father as well despite me not wanting to bring that up. But, I didn't want to prove you wrong. I just… I didn't want to see you devote yourself to something that would only bring you frustration."

Barry shrugged. "You still didn't believe me."

"I wanted to at times." Iris pressed her lips together and glanced down for a moment. "I mean you seemed so capable and aware and smart and… it would have been nice if your father hadn't done it, if they could find some other piece of evidence which would make everything make sense.

"But, that isn't what happened. Even Dad who seemed to think something was off had to testify against him, and I couldn't make myself believe your story. I could make myself believe in you, that maybe your father wasn't the devil the TV painted him as and that you had a right to your story. And, I could pretend that your story was true, and I could imagine it. But, I knew that wasn't the same thing as believing it, and playing along without truly believing it seemed wrong."

Barry's lips pulled back and then released. He placed his hand on Iris's.

"I've already said this, but sorry for snapping at Dad at the hospital."

Barry squeezed her hand lightly. "Thanks." Iris' fingers curled into his leg. "It would have been nice if you believed, but… thanks for getting that all out there now. We spend too much time dancing around the subject. You didn't have any reason to believe, and you were dealing with it the best you could. 'Doesn't mean it didn't hurt though."

Iris rubbed a circle on his leg. "Sometimes I wonder how you could believe, and sometimes I feel bad for not being able to." Barry looked her in the eyes, and they shared a comfortable silence. When it passed, Iris tried to give a smile. "You mentioned the impossible found you. What did you mean by that?"

Barry's eyebrows furrowed, lowered, and then raised. He was trying to figure out what to say or perhaps how to say it.

Finally, Barry gave a shrug. "I can't find any way to say it that doesn't sound crazy. I mean it is crazy. It is wonderful, amazing, and absolutely horrifying because I have no idea how it happens, and I don't think it's just me. I don't think anybody knows or is close to knowing." His eyes had grown wide, and he shook his head. A half a laugh and a roll of the eyes. "I would have heard about it if somebody knew something, and it's silly because now I have proof, but after all those years I can't trust the world with this. Plus, I don't even have a way to say it that actually captures _it-_"

"Barry." Iris's lips had formed a thin line. "Just say it however you can."

He glanced back into her eyes. "I'm overthinking this aren't I?"

Iris tilted her head. "You could overthink a glass of water. It's in your nature."

He rolled his lips before speaking again. "The simplest way to say it is that I can go faster. Not just a little bit faster, but _really_ faster…" He glanced in Iris's direction, and she couldn't help the blank expression on her face. How fast could he be going? He glanced away. "I discovered it the day I snuck out from the hospital. I ran, and suddenly I was passing people and cars. Then, the hospital was a block away, and nobody had seen me leave."

Iris opened her mouth and closed it.

What was she supposed to say? If anyone else had said that to her, she would have dismissed it as a practical joke. Hell, if he hadn't prefaced it with such an emotional build up, she still would have thought it was a practical joke.

But, it wasn't. Barry seemed stuck between the awestruck daze which had plastered itself on his face while reading comics during middle school and high school and the terrified shivers which had struck the boy Dad had dragged back from the crime scene. Whatever Barry was talking about, he believed in it, though Iris could barely understand it. Running past cars? Going so fast others couldn't see you? He had mentioned the impossible, and that certainly fit the bill.

"I should probably show you. You mentioned water-"

Iris raised an eyebrow, but before she could answer Barry was gone. A blur had disappeared into the kitchen. She heard the gush of the sink turn on and then off, and Barry returned. His hand rested over the top of a glass of water which hadn't been on the table before. The water sloshed violently against the glass's walls and Barry's palm, and though a few drops escaped from between his fingers, the liquid slowly lost its energy until its surface remained calm and steady.

"Oh." Iris swallowed. She reached for the glass, her fingers felt a warm glow as she tapped its side.

After confirming that the glass was indeed real, she turned to Barry. He looked at her expectantly. She wanted to ask or say, 'You did this,' but it would be stupid. He'd already told her that he was fast, and that this was a demonstration. However, he was also right that saying it and seeing it are two different things.

She brushed her fingers against the glass again and then returned her hand to his leg. "And, you can do this whenever? Just zip around?"

Barry shrugged. "I guess." A smile spread on his face. "It's how I got here."

Laughter escaped Iris's lips. She playfully punched at Barry's arm before grabbing his sleeve more seriously "Why didn't you say anything earlier? Not even to me and Dad?" A billion questions bubbled up in her throat but she reminded herself, 'one at a time.'

Barry looked down and back up. "It is amazing and fun now, but at first it was just scary. Once I started running I didn't have any control, and the world looks so different, blurred yet distinct. I was also scared you guys would tell the doctors. I had every reason in the world to do so; you were wondering if there were complications from the coma, I was wondering whether there were complications from this. But, I could never bring myself to watch the medical community react to this, to me."

Iris's eyes narrowed. "First, we wouldn't have told anyone if you didn't want us to, and were there any complications?"

"I thought it would be a burden, but now I realize that should have been your choice," Barry tilted his head sheepishly. The Wests had spent enough effort trying to convince him otherwise, but sometimes the thoughts still came through. "Fortunately, there haven't been any complications so far besides having to talk slowly and eat a lot, and I even performed some tests yesterday looking for them. I'm beginning to hope that there aren't any."

"Well, if you do notice anything, see somebody. You're not a doctor, and I don't want to lose you again." Iris gave the sleeve in her hand a yank. "But, don't beat yourself up trying to find something." Barry gave her a look. "Don't pretend like you weren't doing that. I heard the way you said that. Let's enjoy this while we can."

"K" Barry shrugged. "As much as I believed in the impossible existing somewhere out there, it's weirder when it is happening to you." Barry curled inward.

Iris' lips turned downward at the action. She furrowed her eyebrows, before they flew up at an idea. "How fast can you go?"

Barry's eyebrows furrowed before they shot upward and his back straightened. His cheek twitched, and then a smile broke onto his face. His shoulder's shook into a shrug, and he turned to Iris. His face held a confused yet excited expression. "I don't know." He shook his head. "I really don't. I've never hit a speed that was difficult." He squinted. "Well, it's not easy, but that is just because it's such a different way of… being, and though it also feels so natural, I'm definitely not used to it. But, there is always the feeling that if I figured that part of it out I could go even faster. And-" Barry's lips twitched upward "- I was thinking of practicing some later tonight by the railroad tracks."

Iris could feel her face relax and form a smile of its own now that Barry could get excited, even or perhaps especially over the circumstances. "Well... how fast have you gone?"

"I don't come with a speedometer!" Barry laughed before reflecting, "I actually might have a better sense of speed, distance, and acceleration, but…" He gestured in the air amorphously. "It's not in terms of miles, meters, seconds, or hours. It's just there. Maybe I could practice timing myself tonight or later next week. For shorter runs I could borrow one of the high speed cameras from ballistics, and I'm sure I can find a good stop watch for when I need a little bit more distance than the camera frame would allow." Iris could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of new experiments to run. Relatively soon, something snapped him out of it. "Have I mentioned that it's not just speed though? I can also maintain it for farther. I ran all the way to a burn site most of the way across town."

"Burn site?" Iris cocked her head to the side. There weren't that many fires in Central City. "It wouldn't happen to be _that_ burn site would it?"

"Maybe," Barry looked at the ground. "I know you don't like me going off to look at unexplained cases, but Captain Frye is putting a task force together, and he thought I could be on it, and-"

"Barry," Iris interrupted, and he stopped his spiral downward. "I'm fine with you working on them. Just don't use the cases as an excuse to linger on a painful memory."

He took a sharp breath. "I thought that maybe if I proved one of these other cases someone might believe me about mine or at least I'd get a little closure."

Iris wrapped her arms around his. "I'm sorry for not believing you. I kept on wondering that even if you thought your dad was innocent, if he was such a good person that he couldn't do it, why would you come up with such an out there story to defend him? Well, now, I see. It wasn't so out there after all." She pulled Barry closer, and he leaned into her. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"Would it help if we went back to talking about… running?" She realized that the topic might connect back to the murder, but he seemed to enjoy it.

Barry nodded.

Iris's eyebrows twitched together in curiosity. "How do you see while you run? I could barely see you. How could you not run into the wall over there or… how did you manage to even just find and grab the cup in that time?" More questions were bubbling up inside her, but she tried to contain herself a little bit.

Once you got past how fucked up the situation was, it was all quite interesting.

Barry made an exaggerated thoughtful face. "I can't answer how, but I can describe what I see. I can see individual objects, especially where they are in relation to me, but except for a few details they are just swaths of color. When I'm actively looking for something, more of the details pop out. For example, despite the glasses being see-through, I saw them more clearly than I saw the cabinets themselves. Still, when I am moving quickly but not running, everything becomes super clear. I can't maintain that for long though because I typically need to be doing something for the abilities to kick in."

Questions and half-baked concepts started popping up into Iris' head. She actually hadn't done that much work with perception, but that wasn't because her curiosity hadn't been piqued. So many things piqued her curiosity that she rarely had time to pursue them all. Next time she was on campus she would swing by the library.

One idea in particular jumped her for the moment because it was something they could do now. A grin split her face. She gently pushed Barry's side with her elbow before untangling their arms. A little alarm shot over Barry's face as he registered her expression. She held up a finger. "One moment." Though Barry's lips had formed an O, and his eyes had gone wide, he waited.

And, he was still waiting when she returned with a deck of cards. His face scrunched inwards at the sight. "What are those for?"

"You mentioned that you need something to direct the speed at in order to get the world to slow down, right?"

Barry slowly nodded. "Yes. I can slow it down somewhat otherwise, but it takes a lot of work. I'm also more likely to accidentally run or do something quickly like I've built up a bunch of energy that I need to release. Also, my normal perception speed is already faster than everybody else's. I have to get into a certain zone just to talk to people normally."

"Like at the hospital?" Iris through her head back in realization before she gathered herself together. "Back to the point. Maybe you just need some practice directing the energy at seeing things. I mean the world isn't really slowing down; you're processing things faster but only selectively. You immediately tap into that when it is necessary, but what about when that is the point?" She had already started shuffling the stack. "Moving cards around is pretty easy. Anyone can do that fast. But, sorting them requires making comparisons and decisions. Wanna give it a try?"

Barry eyed the cards suspiciously before offering a shrug. "Sure."

As Iris handed the cards over she warned, "Don't flip them over until I have my phone ready. I want to time this." A twinge appeared in his cheek. Even if he wouldn't admit it yet, the challenge was accepted.

Once Iris had the phone ready, Barry flipped the stack to see the bottom card. Suddenly his hands were flying, and his eyes darting back and forth. Iris saw certain cards rise and others sink in the deck like bubbles and sand in water, while certain bunches of cards would abruptly stick out at angles for organization. Yet, he would occasionally hesitate, something you had to squint to notice because as soon as he stopped he would start again, or his hand would move in one direction before jerking in the other. At one point, Iris thought she saw a spark of electricity in his eyes, which were currently squinting in concentration.

Within the next four seconds, Barry's eyes squinted, his eyebrows lowered, his lips pressed together, and he placed the deck of cars in front of Iris. She stopped the timer.

"I'm pretty sure I did it, but could you check."

Iris flipped through the deck. It was sorted.

"I think I could do it faster." And, and Barry had such a determined look in his eye that she had to shuffle the deck and hand it back to him, saving his time as a note for later.

The two friends fooled around with Barry's abilities until she had to leave. They practiced sorting the deck a few more times, before they gave up and threw the cards in the air for a new version of fifty-two card pick-up where Barry had to 'pick up' every single card before they hit the ground. Occasionally he would miss a couple or Iris would be able to snag one out of the air before he reached it, and once he checked his progress by shuffling through the deck, he'd look up with this lost expression. Iris would point out the missing card, either in her hand or on the floor by his feet. His relieved yet somewhat disappointed expression was so funny and yet so cute to see on her nerdy best friend's face.

Still, Iris couldn't blame him for his small failures. Despite being light, the cards fell relatively quickly. Throwing them higher in the air only resulted in some of them going all the way across the table, so that some cards would go across the table and chairs, and Barry would have to dart around the furniture, practically performing gymnastics, in order to reach the flying pieces of paper. Moreover, he had to move so quickly that the air swirled around his limbs, causing the other cards to fall more chaotically.

It was quite a sight to see, and again Iris swore there were yellow sparks surrounding Barry.

It was getting close to when Iris had to pack up for her shift, and both of them were leaning against the wall laughing, and occasionally Barry would descend into the giggles as the laughs tried to come out too quickly. Iris took a deep breath and calmed herself down. "Now that you've had some time to get used to it, why not share it with anybody else?"

"At the hospital?" Barry's face fell. "The doctors wanted to see if they could scrape anything more together on my metabolism, so I have an 'ultra-through' physical next week. If nothing comes up by then, I'll see if they find anything. Maybe I'll drop a hint, so they have an idea what to look for."

"That would be nice," Iris shrugged. "I don't want either of us to harp on this, searching for a catch. It wouldn't do either of us any good; we wouldn't even know what to look for. You might know a little more than me, but you're not a medical doctor." Barry frowned and looked away with his eyes turned towards her wooden floor. He folded his arms across his chest. "Even if the doctors couldn't figure it out, they would do a better job than you or me, and… it's not like I can just stop worrying about it myself. I'll probably do enough worrying for the both of us."

Barry reached his hand out for hers, and he turned his head in her direction without meeting her eyes. "If it helps, I probably heal faster now. Not only did the doctors tell me my recovery was remarkable, but yesterday I had to get out of the building once it went up." Iris' head snapped in his direction; she felt a squeeze on her hand. "I made it out obviously, but I felt like hell, and people have said that I looked like a lobster. But, within a couple of hours, I felt better. I looked fine by the end of the day. Now, neither of us could probably tell that it happened."

Iris and Barry slid down the wall and moved closer together so that their arms were pressed together.

"But, that isn't even why I don't want to tell a doctor. Dr. Engels and the rest meant well, but after just discovering that my metabolism increased they hovered. Suddenly they had to run all of these tests and keep me in the hospital for a whole week. My abnormal metabolism by itself was suddenly the enemy, and though I wanted to know why it had happened and if it would cause a problem, it was something I could live with. It's not something I want to live with; it costs me plenty of money just to keep from getting dizzy. But, poking and prodding me and keeping me from my life only made things worse." Barry rubbed his face with his free hand. "Imagine if they got a hold of this. They'd mean well, but I can't picture it turning out for the best."

"Makes sense then," Iris said leaning into Barry. "I meant telling Dad or your friend from work… Julio. Just telling anybody."

"It was nice getting it out there," Barry admitted with a sigh, "but Julio's not ready for something like this. I don't know if he will ever be ready. Daniel… he's ready, and I should tell him, yet…"

Iris playfully pushed her arm against Barry's. "It's not about whether they are ready for it or not, but whether they deserve the truth from you. Hell, Daniel always wanted to be able to help you with your mother's case. Maybe this would give him the right angle to help you out. Lack of knowledge won't help them or protect them from this, Barry. It will only make them more vulnerable if something does happen, and prevent them from taking the appropriate actions in any case."

Barry shrugged. "Maybe I'm not ready, and at least I have you to talk to now." He flashed her a smile.

Iris smiled back and then glanced at her phone. "It looks like speaking with you is going to make me late. I need to get to work _now_!" Iris immediately got up and started running around her apartment grabbing her apron and cap.

From the periphery, she heard Barry ask, "Do you want me to head off?" She picked up her keys. "I could run by Jitters on the way to the lab, and give them a little warning."

Iris paused. "No thank you. They might wonder why I couldn't make it if you could. It would be more helpful if you could give me a ride." She only realized what that entailed, Barry carrying her in her work outfit the three miles to work, a moment later causing her to blush in realization.

Meanwhile, she heard an odd noise from Barry. Turning towards her friend, he looked petrified. "I… I've never ran with anyone. What if I ran too quickly and hurt you? I barely know how I survive it let alone if somebody else would-"

"Barry," Iris interrupted before his words would rush out on top of each other. "It's fine. There's still time for me to arrive"

Her friend blinked and then gave a shallow laugh. He looked at his own phone's clock. "Oh, yeah. Could I come back after the shift? It was nice talking with you."

"Do you remember where the extra key is?" Barry made an affirmative noise. "Do you promise to let me at least attempt to get work done?" Barry gave a laugh, but after Iris shot him a serious glare, he nodded. "Then, sure. It was nice talking to you too. We may have talked in the hospital, but we have ten months we need to make up." A smile spread over Barry's face. "Well, we have to go now. Out."

* * *

><p>Barry smiled.<p>

It was nice to get that off his chest, especially to someone he trusted and found comfort in such as Iris. The whole situation had been building up inside of him ever since it started, but he had been so afraid of it and how people might react that he never let any of it out. That probably had hurt him. He had never had a wide net of friends, but he hadn't realized what it felt like for even those few to not know what was becoming an even larger part of him. It had started out as a freak occurrence, one which he wouldn't want to occur again and which he was fine not telling anyone about. Yet, slowly it was becoming a part of his life, how he dealt with the world. Not telling Iris, who knew everything about him, everything except for the small detail that he loved her… not telling her now seemed like the worst idea ever.

And, it wasn't just her knowledge of his abilities that made him feel less cut off from the world. The differences between himself and others had been rubbing on him more and more over the past week, but somehow those evaporated or felt celebrated with Iris. He had to consciously slow himself down with everyone else; with Iris, the world slowed, and he slowed with it. Before he worried about somebody catching him accidentally speed, and he was anxious about how much he enjoyed tapping into his abilities. But, she had seen him, reassured him, listened to him, and played with him. Even the things he hadn't gotten to telling her yet, like the fact that electronics sometimes hurt his eyes with their blinking or that he'd even started dreaming in slow motion didn't seem like too big a deal anymore after talking with Iris.

Barry knew that while he could spend the three hours of her shift lost in how important talking to her had been, but he also knew that plans for tonight. If he didn't practice, he wouldn't know if he could make it to Starling tomorrow. He had been looking forward to meeting with Team Arrow and catching up with Felicity.

So, Barry ran.

First to the lab, where he got the blood sampling ready. He had promised not to worry too much, but some thoughts still pricked his brain and needed settling. While Iris had been right about his not knowing what to look for anyways, he still wanted to keep his eyes open. Fortunately, he also had curiosity brushing against his mind and driving him to take the samples, so he tried to embrace these emotions in fears stead.

It was not too hard. Not after watching Iris through the playing cards into the air and watching them fall like glitter in a snow globe as he darted after them.

Next, he moved to the main train station where Amtrak connected with the local railways, and he shifted onto the track his research had said lead to Starling city. His legs pushed against the ground, and the wind beat against his face. He felt the energy crack through his body and pour into him from seemingly out of nowhere. The millisecond he got out of the station he pushed himself off the tracks to run beside them. First, towers passed him, then houses, and then fields.

A grin split across his face. He pushed faster.

He passed the next station without realizing it and soon a train was farther down the track, just a grey-blue square in the distance. He wondered if the distance really was closing as his brain seemed to think, and he pushed himself to brush close against the corn rows. Suddenly the air pressure fluctuated. A grey-blue wall erupted to his left. Amid the whistling in his ear and the wind pounding against his side, he swore he heard a rumble. At least for a couple milliseconds.

And then the train was behind him.

Barry blinked, or at least he thought he did. The movement of his eyelids occurred too fast for him to notice as every moment of vision counted. Yet, he felt the action and reveled in the possibility. Had he just… ?

He leaned even closer into the corn field beside him and despite the temptation to, as always, go faster, he pulled back. He could feel his speed lower, but it isn't lowering at all. It is as if it has a physical form like a limb or muscle shrinking inside him getting sucked elsewhere at his command. He can feel how much it's lowering. First ten percent off the top, then he's lowered by a fourth, before he hits a half of his earlier speed and next a third.

The train appears beside him again, and it looks like one of those high speed ones. At least he thinks it might be.

It takes a couple of tries, wavering back and forth, before he finally manages to match the train's speed. For a few seconds he's running with the train, steady enough that he could almost reach his fingers out and touch it. There's a twitch in Barry's cheek. Instead of laughing he concentrates on the air pulsing through his nose, throat, and lungs, his diaphragm expanding and contracting, and the alveoli ripping the oxygen out of the air and shoving carbon dioxide in its place. The frequency of his breaths increased without losing their effectiveness.

And then, he realized what he was doing: he had matched speeds with the train. That itself was not bad, but what if there was someone on board looking out? Would he stand out clear against the field like a photographer set the background out of focus?

He shot forward in embarrassment.

For a full moment, the air felt like curtains constantly parting around him, protecting him, and dragging round his joints and bends. The air whipped against the train. Speed force cackled in his wake.

Once he reached the train's front, he switched over to the other side and continued on for another mile. Not used to processing that much information at once, he didn't take a chance and slowed down a bit to look over his shoulder. The train was small in his vision but still visible; he would be barely a speck. He maintained his speed. He'd only dropped a smidge, enough that the air returned to gas; the distance was still increasing. He was determined not to bother the train anymore.

Until his curiosity returned, and again he pulled back.

As the train approached, he first tried a foray into the corn and then, discovering that the previous plan only lead to reduced vision and trampled corn, he stayed close to field. Once the train arrived he adjusted his speed to match and pulled in close so that he ran beneath the windows. He reached out.

His eyebrows shot up, and he paused.

He never really had matched the train's speed. Not exactly. Only instantaneously. Each time his legs pushed against the ground, he received a boost in acceleration. Then the air pushed back. Against the train he now saw his hand moving back and forth above the train or rather the train moving back and forth beneath his hand. Looking around, and he couldn't avoid that with the rocks and the twigs, he started to notice something all around. In between glances. In between the moment between his eyes seeing and his brain perceiving. It was all around him, and his brain had somehow managed to compensate.

He focused, and his speed concentrated in his center so that his legs did not push him forward but merely kept up. It ate at him and his speed more than merely running (though he'd never truly _just_ ran, and as he went faster _merely_ running became less and less efficient). He had to battle air resistance with pure energy rather than physical force. Still, he put in the effort, and the world studied. He held his hand inches from the steel exterior.

He tapped it, and his hand immediately recoiled. He reached out and bounced his hand along the wall, before he managed to exactly reflect the train's velocity and rest his hand against the train's ribbed siding.

His palm held there for a tenth of a second. It felt like half a minute.

Then, he pulled back both his arm and his speed. He had been in a weird experience within a weird experience, and he needed a moment to detangle his perception, his movement, and his speed. He fell back two cars, but soon his legs were under him again pushing against the dirt. His arms pumped at his sides He rushed up three cars and then away and back.

Barry realized that while his eyes were compensating for the pulsing, no one else could probably compensate like that. He could run along here at any speed he liked, and the people on board wouldn't be able to recognize him.

He may or may not have played with the train until it reached its next station, zipping to and thro around it. He certainly couldn't deny how much fun he was having.

When the train pulled up to the station, Barry glanced at the station name and turned on heel and barreled back to Central fast enough that the air turned to curtains again. He pushed faster and faster until something told him 'Not yet.' It wasn't a voice or even a solid, nor was it physical exhaustion, pain, or difficulty. Rather the command came to Barry as a simple compulsion, not too different from what pushed him to run every time he latched onto his abilities. If he paid closer attention he would notice the subtleties of the demand. 'Not now. I want it too, but I need more time to grow. Too much faster and I will lose more to fighting friction than I gain from your movement. There will be a time. Not yet.'

Hitting the city, Barry tuned the speed down if just because of sharp turns and swerving cars. Within no time, he had darted into his lab and took the blood sample for future study. He glanced at the clock and it was just over forty five minutes since he had left Iris' apartment. Glancing online for some mileages, Barry found which station was halfway to Starling.

Before he left however, a thought brushed his mind. What had caused the air to feel like splitting curtains?

As his mind put the pieces together, his stomach sank, but his heart fluttered. It had only occurred once he reached certain speeds. A wave of pressure could feel like a curtain. His clothes were becoming loose at the edges with chars on the joints and across his chest. He must have been going pretty fast, but _that_ fast?

Realization dawned. He had at least one point of reference: the train. The train which had been going at most half of his original speed even when he hadn't felt the curtains. To be fair the ratio of the two speeds actually somewhere between a half and a third, even though Barry wasn't sure why he was so certain about it. Still, he hesitantly moved back to the computer and checked the Amtrak schedule. He checked for the usual train around six o'clock heading to the east. It was a high speed train. A few more clicks gave how fast it was allowed to go on the track: 310 mph.

Barry did the calculations using 5/12 and the working ratio. 744 mph. He looked up the speed of sound. Approximately 760 mph.

He leaned back. It was plausible, if he accepted the estimate, and some part of him refused to deny it. He rolled his shoulders. He probably should just avoid going that fast until he figured it out. A smile twitched on his lips. At least in city limits.

The last test showed that he was able to go to a station 163 miles away and back without a problem, but Starling was still quite a ways farther down the tracks. Despite the work to be done and miles to run, Barry took a moment to marvel at the distance covered. In the last hour he had traveled over three hundred miles, and he didn't feel a single ache or pain. Even flexing his joints didn't reveal any troubles. If anything he was only just falling off the high from earlier.

Having taken his moment to revel, Barry shot back out to the tracks, promising himself to this time to not get distracted.

* * *

><p>Iris came back to her apartment at 10:15 to find Barry sprawled over her couch, head propped against one armrest and his legs hanging off the other. Glancing into the kitchen, she noticed fast food bags littering kitchen table. She moved farther into the room and saw his shoes kicked over the edge and his eyes closed. He was also wearing a different set of clothes than the ones he'd left with. A scab rested by Barry's hairline and taunted her, but it wasn't so bad that she had to bother him about it. Yet. A quick turn back to the kitchen revealed two more bags which had fallen onto the floor.<p>

Iris sighed and decided to bug him to clean up his mess later. She had her own work to do. After laying her lab papers back over the table and arranging them neatly, she took one last look at Barry before getting to work. If he didn't wake up in half an hour, she was going to jostle him, work be damned.

For the next twenty-seven minutes, Iris would get some work done before some movement would grab her attention. Barry would twitch or adjust himself in the chair, and her head would pop up. Sometimes she would swear that he had woken up. Sleeping people didn't jerk like that; quick movement had to be purposeful, unless she had poked his foot or something. But, then he'd nuzzle into the chair's back, and she would remember that he was different now. Not fundamentally different, but faster wasn't harder. She would have to account for that. That didn't make her doubt her own eyes any less when he blurred and returned to focus.

Then, Barry started stretching and sitting up. He glanced around the room before his eyes landed on her. "Oops?"

Iris rolled her eyes. "Tired?"

He shrugged. "I guess, but it feels like I studied all night rather than ran several hundred miles." He proceeded to shake his head fast enough to give anyone else a concussion. He glanced at her papers. "Homework?" He sounded a little disappointed.

"Just some analysis for my research," Iris shrugged. "No Friday classes for me, though I do have to check in with my advisor at three." Barry's cheek twitched towards a smile, causing Iris' to follow suit. "So, looks like you got a lot of running in. You certainly were hungry."

"St-" words were on Barry's lips for a casual reply, when Iris saw realization spread over his face. His features immediately went peevish. "Sorry."

He dashed off to pick up the food bags, causing several papers to fly off the table, and Iris' hands darted out to pin the remaining ones down. "A little warning next time!" A confused noise came from the kitchen, and a head poked out. Iris would have thrown her hands in the air, but she kept them pinned to the paper. "Wind! Papers!" He ducked his head, but before he could say he's sorry she cut him off. "I'll just invest in some paperweights."

"You shouldn't have to," Barry demurred as he wandered back into the living room.

Iris shook her head. "You obviously can't see the look on your face when you get going or even just talk about it. You wouldn't be able to stop if you tried."

He didn't try to deny it, but instead sat back down on the couch. "So you got to eat at work?"

"I had a snack then. I had a fuller meal before you got here," she shrugged. She jotted down a few more notes before she looked back up. "Are you still hungry?" Her eyes were wide, an eyebrow raised, and her mouth ajar. He didn't deny it. "How far did you run?"

"Fourteen hundred miles," he tried to say with a straight face. Tried. "At least."

Iris placed her pencil down. She opened her mouth then closed it. Her shoulders rose then dropped.

What were you supposed to say to that? "Congratulations."

"I'm planning to run to Starling tomorrow." He looked away. "If you need to get work done, I could go, but… there was something I wanted to show you first."

Iris looked back at the sheet of papers. How much would get done if he stayed? Very little and they both knew that. Daniel had had to enforce separate study spaces through most of Barry's stay in the West household. How much would she get done if he left? She would probably make it to twelve, maybe even a little past that. But, the work really didn't need to get done for tomorrow, and Barry was heading off to Starling tomorrow… "Oh, what the hell. I'm feeling a little peckish anyways. How much of a pizza could you eat? I'm only up for a slice or two."

"I did manage to eat all of those chicken sandwiches, so…" He rolled his lips in embarrassment. "A large."

While Iris got the order ready, making sure to put Jalapenos on a half of the pizza in compromise, she saw Barry wander away and come back. Finally pressing submit, she looked up. Barry was holding the deck of cards from earlier and had the expression of an eager puppy. She kept a straight face and raised an eyebrow. "This actually helped me." The other eyebrow went up. "Apparently, I needed to work on processing when running as well."

"Does that have anything to do with the scab on your face?"

Barry looked up as if that would actually allow him to see his own forehead before looking back at her with an innocent expression. "You see there was this train station which had a cement platform about this tall," he held his fingers three to four inches apart, "and, I have no idea why they needed it, but I might have been going a faster than I could handle because I only noticed it once my foot had caught on it and I was tumbling across the station. I don't even know how I managed to stop before doing another tumble"

"What!?"

He had told her that he healed quickly now, and admittedly that scab was probably an improvement from earlier. She still didn't like it. She remembered that one time her high school made her and Barry's entire grade sit through a lecture on why to drive safely which included so many pictures of car crashes that everyone was a little skittish about even touching a vehicle. She then remembered seeing Barry handle speeds faster than a car.

She cringed. She didn't want to lose him again.

He cringed as well eyes scrapping the floor. "It hurt a lot then too. I had to clean the area in the station's bathrooms, and I swear it throbbed deeper than the skin. And, I certainly slowed down coming back here, terrified that it would happen again. But, after I got back, I practiced sorting the cards several times. I didn't make any progress the first couple times, but then something clicked. I found out how to direct the energy to processing. "

Iris rolled her eyes. "Then hitting your head jolted your epiphany." She then popped her lips. "Keep your eyes open."

Barry feigned offence. "They were open. Just not observant enough." He recomposed his face. "The… bump made figuring it out more pressing, but I don't think I would have found out how to do it if I wasn't already looking." A smile spread across his face, and the eagerness returned. "You want to see if I've actually improved?"

Iris couldn't help but grin back. While she wasn't too fond of the scab on his forehead and would certainly pester him about running safely as the night went on, telling him to stop would have been the same level of nonsense as if she had actually stopped driving after her high school had put on that fright fest. The world is a dangerous place; that doesn't mean one should stop living. One just had to figure out how to live safely, and Barry was trying to do that. In the meantime she didn't have to like the results of his mistakes.

Nodding she pulled out her phone. He shuffled the cards a few times. She held her thumb over the start button. "Go."

Sparks flew, and his eyes almost glowed with electricity- or was it lightning? Iris knew that there was technically no difference between the two, but she had to admit that lightning fit it better.

A second later Barry stopped. Her thumb tapped again. "We're getting close to the point where we'd be measuring my reaction time instead, but that certainly was an improvement in time. Now let's see if they're in order." He handed the deck back. As she looked through the suits, she commented, "I've been seeing what looks like electricity coming off of you when you were moving fast. Have you noticed anything yourself?" She looked at him half expectantly, not sure what she was expecting.

Barry scrunched his eyebrows before shrugging. "I can't say I have, but I can't exactly see myself." He thought about it for half a moment more. "What were you thinking about it?"

"Just thinkin' about the fact that the accident which caused all this involved lightning." Iris saw Barry pull back, and she quickly covered, "It's probably a coincidence."

"An impossibly long string of coincidences had to have gotten me to this point, yet they had to have happened previously. I don't want to dismiss anything." His eyebrows lowered. "That said, I have no idea how a large electrical current running through my body would cause this. I always thought it was something to do with the chemicals, and the lightning had merely caused some odd reactions…" The furrow between his eyebrows became deeper before he threw his hands in the air. "Oh, fuck it. Those should have killed me too. It might as well have been the lightning or even the particle accelerator on the other side of town. Who knows?"

Iris watches Barry and for a moment wishes she hadn't mentioned anything. He is frustrated with the world. His speed is a mocking half gift, the impossible thing he has always searched for finally found him but it didn't come with the resolution he had been searching for. She can see it etched in the creases and dips of his face that he wants to be able to explain this at least partially. To know that this at least exists in the same world of possibility as what he had always known.

Yet, neither of them could deny it was from another place entirely. It was magic, a miracle. Barry had believed in good things before; he wasn't sure what to do with miracles.

Even when they were younger they would poke fun at superhero comics, at not just the blatant but the subtle breaks from the laws of physics, at all the secondary powers a hero would need in order for their main powers to work, and how unlikely it was that accidents such as cosmic radiation or spider-bites would manage to impart not just one but all of them. Iris's cheek twitched. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

She scooted her chair closer so she could rest her arm on Barry's. He calmed down.

They joked about until the pizza arrived. Iris discovered that he changed clothes because the other ones were not only burnt but falling apart. He thought he had broken the sound barrier, and on his last run his average speed was close enough that it was plausible. She proclaimed that even though he had technically arrived to her apartment before her shift ended, he was still late because he had slept in at which point he replied that she had let him. She won the argument because he is adorable, especially when he sleeps. He cannot think of a proper reply because he is too busy sputtering in denial.

The pizza came. She ate. He vacuumed three fourths of it up. They fought over the last piece and in the end got a knife to split it.

They continued into the night, laughing, playing, and surprisingly getting work done. Life had returned to normal or at least a good approximation of it. When Barry laughed it looked like he was vibrating.

Shortly after midnight, Barry decided to go home, noting that he did still have work tomorrow and there was still an arsonist on the loose and evidence to process and leads to follow. They both agreed that they had a good time. As Barry was heading towards the door, he paused. His lips turned downward. "You mentioned earlier that you felt bad for not believing me."

"Barry, even if you weren't right, I should have been there for you."

"And, you were" Barry said calmly. Iris wanted to protest, that she had seen him hurt, and she didn't do what he needed. But, he pressed on. "Having you believe me would have been nice, yes. But, don't discount what you've already done. When Daniel brought me to your house that night, you had no idea who I was and had no obligation to believe me. And, you didn't. But, you also didn't hold it against me.

"You welcomed me into the household and comforted me while Daniel was sorting out the legalities. On my first day at your school you showed me around the building. You had studied my interests well enough that by the time my birthday came around your gifts were fantastic." They had been two books: one science fiction and one science non-fiction. He had hugged her afterwards. "You never stopped caring for me and being with me, and that means the world. And, though it might come from the same place 'I'm sorry' makes it seem like you're stepping away. You don't have to be sorry, just be here."

Silence hung for a moment as if he were about to say something more, but he didn't.

Iris opened her mouth then closed it before the words could come out. She tilted her head and smiled. She had been smiling a lot tonight; she knew. But, this was not an infectious smile or one that came with a laugh on her lips. It was a soft smile, reserved for knowing how much she meant to him.

She then reached up and gave him a tight hug, and he reciprocated. They held onto each other for quite some time before Barry finally left.

It didn't completely stop the guilt at causing her best friend to suffer.

Still, she went back and worked until two in the morning first on her own research, then on papers she had to grade for a professor. She enjoyed attempting to unravel the mysteries of the mind, and even if at this point she was just doing statistical analysis and write ups, her mind could easily wander to what explore next. Aiding students working their way into psychology frustrated her more often, but even when they kept making the same odd mistakes, she found them intriguing. The events of the day spiraled at the back of her mind, but she had other things to do at the moment.

* * *

><p>Dear Barry,<p>

Thursday has come and gone. Now we are most of the way through Friday, and Director Singh already stole you away for a few hours while the detectives followed your leads. But, I am so excited about your trip that I might not care. Heat Wave agreed to pull off a conventional robbery in the meantime, but he will still want compensation for the previous bust. Something has to happen in Starling if you are to be prepared, though I don't know exactly what your relationship with the Arrow is. I would stalk you to Starling, but if you noticed just once I went there, things would just get awkward. I would have to explain things, and they are things you shouldn't know.

So, alas while you are away, I will not be writing these notes. I have more important things to attend to anyways.

I still have to wonder what will happen while you were there, just like I have to wonder what happened last night. You came in today so much surer of yourself, and not just the way you were Wednesday morning when you came in holding back. You were firmly in command of the speed force and, if I were to say so myself, enjoying it. Your grip was relaxed but steady.

Now, I can't say that I have no idea why you are suddenly more comfortable with it. After you left work, I felt a slight pull through the speed force. At that distance I can usually barely sense even a large pull of speed force from its home, but after so long with so little background noise, I felt it. Barely, but I did, and I realized if you were pulling hard enough for me to feel it at home, you must be running quite fast. Well, not outside of your expected range but fast enough that you had to be putting the effort in. Probably practicing.

Still, it was odd to feel the more subtle changes when you arrived this morning. Makes me wonder if something else gave you a push or helped you relax beyond your planned trip to Starling.

From,

A Fan.

**A\N** (but actually): I will continue to be writing the journey to Starling, but I can't continue From A Fan for that time for reasons that involve how From A Fan works. If you haven't figured out how that works, all I can say is that From a Fan is important. However, things need to be done, so you will get other tidbits.

Also, what happened here is that at the beginning of Moving Forward Iris informed me that she needed more screen time and wanted to hang out with Barry. I agreed. At the end of Moving Forward, Barry informed me that he was going to tell her. Not that he was planning to tell her but that he didn't have the heart to keep it from her. He asked why he should have to anyways. I checked my plans to see if it would cause anything to screw up, and it didn't. In fact it opened up the story in ways I discovered I severely needed.

This also seems like a proper place to talk about the last episode and its lack of Iris. I shouldn't have waited until she reminded me to bring her in, and though this does tie smoothly with the other events occurring now in the story line, it isn't an excuse. However, I also knew that her view point would enrich my story at this point, and I worked at making sure her character had a distinctive point of view to contribute and reasons for holding it. Authors need to give her the attention she deserves.

This includes the writers on the show, who didn't do her justice this past episode. (Rant follows. It is OK if you bail).

Moreover, beyond the fact that she is the female lead and thus should have her own story advanced and her point of view shown (a sentiment expressed well by a number of people on other sites particularly tumblr), sometimes showing other people's point of view just helps advance the story. Period. This episode was one of those times. We already know how Barry feels about Iris. We already know where Joe stands on the issue. Moreover, by telling Iris Barry's feelings, the show is asking more than ever how Iris will react to that, so it would make perfect sense to transition away from Barry for the romantic story lines. It doesn't even help _Barry_'s story to continue the focus on him, so it seems like the show is simply refusing to pass the ball onto Iris.

Typically, in these situations, I feel like something should have been explored more, but I don't see how I would do it differently or I wonder where the space for the scenes I want would come from. I'm disappointed but only abstractly so. This is not one of those cases. I have specific reworkings for the episode up on my profile that would have allowed for this.

I didn't write this chapter around Iris and her perspective in recompense after watching the episode or even in anticipation for the opportunities it squandered. I wrote it that way because my story called for it; however, it seems oddly appropriate that I'm posting this chapter now.


	16. Interlude: Chills

Beta'd by yumi2482 and rather short. Important note at the end.

**Interlude: Chills**

* * *

><p>Leonard Snart,<p>

I know we did not part on good terms, but I want you to know that the person I was waiting for is finally here. You don't know who he is, but it should become more obvious as time goes on. You're patient enough to figure things out.

Before then, you will need to get more practice with the cold gun I gave you. I trust you can do that discretely at first. You were one of the best clients I had in knowing how to balance show and subtlety. That is why I gave you one of the flashier weapons. Because you could handle it. But, ice in the middle of July is a tad conspicuous no matter how you play it, and the person I was waiting for had shown no sign of coming yet. I couldn't have you getting caught before he showed up. I know it looked like you were just on a roll, and perhaps you could have kept it up for a little bit longer. But, I am not one for taking chances. Both of us know that.

However, if you want to go back to that life, that independence, that power, I am willing to reactivate the gun for you.

Meet me Monday night at our usual location.

Your Patron

* * *

><p>Lisa picked up the note and crumpled it up.<p>

She didn't trust the shit her brother had gotten into, and it wasn't the criminal behavior either. She'd supported Lenny in that since the beginning. Hell, she could barely picture her brother doing anything else. She'd helped him out on a few of his heists, though she was careful not to get to involved in the underworld and be forced to turn this into a career. Not when she was just starting to get going in ice skating. Her couch was also open for her brother to crash on during a low times or high times; the only real difference being how much he contributed to the rent.

The problem lay in the supposed patron.

She didn't trust anybody so shady with her brother. Lenny couldn't even describe the man's face, hadn't even the man straight on despite meeting in person. Len had been unable to stand up for a couple days after he had underwent the operation and received the gun. Once the fever and sickness subsided, his skin was cool to the touch, and his roots bleached white. And, what of this supposed man the patron was waiting for? Would Lenny have to report to him in some sort of crew? Len didn't think too much of it for now; he had been doing this whole thing to become independent of the gangs, mobs, and swindling fences, to command his own respect. He always had plans for if things didn't go well, and he always knew the importance of improvisation. Together those skills had kept him out of most trouble. Lisa just worried that he didn't have enough of a plan and wouldn't be able to improvise out of this one.

Unfortunately, she also knew that even if her brother had reservations about reactivating the gun, he would agree to do it. Having a working cold gun is too big of a temptation, and he probably already sold his soul anyways.

Lisa shoved the note into her pocket, planning on confronting her brother later.

**A/N (Important)**: So obviously this isn't in the main arc of the story, but it is something I wanted to include at some later point (and is happening concurrent with the current plot). Also, I wanted something to give you in addition to this author's note because I am telling you I am going on hiatus.

I love this story I really do, but it is also really long and has taken up all my writing time for the past year. As such I want to be able to write some other stuff in the meantime. I wasn't even planning on the story being this long to begin with. Moreover, I am currently taking graduate classes along with my undergraduate load which would make it hard for me to write regularly especially on larger denser chapters such as the ones this story requires. I love all of you that have made it far enough to reach this note, and I hope I have time later to continue writing this story.

Finally, even though I am going on hiatus, and this chapter is really short, I still encourage people to leave reviews, especially if you haven't reviewed before. Knowing what people think can make a world of a difference. What do you think of the direction I'm taking this in comparison to the show? What do you think of my portrayal of the characters? Did you see that thing I did there with the thing and the other thing? All of these questions go through my mind when I see people have reached the last chapter. Moreover, I am planning, even while this is on hiatus, to make revisions to previous chapters. These will include fixing things from typos and wordy sentences to places where the story could have been clearer to perhaps adding a small scene or two (if it makes sense) Therefore, feedback would be especially helpful. I will, however, say that even if you point out a general pattern you want me to fix, things are always easier to deal with when given specific instances.


End file.
